


Part 2: A Heavy Burden

by Marinari



Series: Iolarin Chronicles [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Sex, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14673135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinari/pseuds/Marinari
Summary: Rescued from the circle and tranquility, Iolarin now faces a new challenge: How will she cope with the aftermath now that she is free? Will she come to turns with the abuse she suffered and the ones she lost? Or will she be consumed by it? Anders and co. have returned, and are amazed at her recovery. But what will Anders do now; will he finally confess his feelings, or has joining with Justice changed him too much?Io begins the long journey to self discovery and healing.





	1. 23rd Day of Kingsway, 3:32 Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Iolarin felt she were in a dream. The feel of his hands couldn't be real, the feeling of home too good to be true. Io felt as if her heart just might break.

Part two:

A Heavy Burden, Time for Healing

 

~~*~~

 

23rd Day of Kingsway, 3:32 DRAGON

 

Anders watched Iolarin carefully as they made their way through Darktown. The elf woman knew her way around well, leading him through the darkened alleys with ease. She had covered her lower face with a cowl, and had her cloak pulled close about her, though the hilt of one of her daggers was always kept visible.

She was different; the months he had been gone had changed her physically, certainly. Yet it was also many other things about her that were different. Her large black eyes had once been expressive, now they were narrowed and kept carefully neutral. Her shoulders were tense, and she carried herself with a sureness he hadn’t known in her in Kinloch.

He couldn’t tell simply by looking at her that she was weakened, though with Justice he felt the faint flow of the fade through her; the arcane magic he had given her, infusing her with supernatural strength. Though he had seen her earlier, he now noted the muscles of her arms and legs, how her stomach was smaller than when he had known her, even so soon after giving birth.

She had been a clumsy girl, in the circle, unsure of herself so often. Now she looked so poised and graceful. Like she had always been so. Her dark curls were crudely chopped short, and she worked it into a braid tight against her scalp, the white and black strands weaving an interesting pattern. Her hair pulled back, her ears and vallaslin stood out, and all together she looked formidable.

And he did not miss the way the beggars of darktown watched her go with respect written on their faces, as with almost anyone they passed on their way through the lowtown market. She was known.

What exactly had happened while they were gone?

 

***

 

Fenris spotted them first, Iolarin standing out sharply as she entered the pub. The scowl she had learned to wear when making her way alone fell instantly, and she beamed him a glowing smile. That accompanied by the glower Anders tried to hide as she hugged him nearly made the ex-slave think their plans had panned out.

Then the glower turned to a wistful longing, and Fenris had to stifle a sigh of frustration. His ears twitched as he turned to watch Io hug the others, and fuss over the infants. Tara held little Karl fast asleep in their lap, and Merrill had Solona who was fussy next to them.

All the while they all watched Io and Anders carefully, distress flashing across Merrills pale face as she noted the way the two acted, and upon seeing Io’s face close-up. She had been crying.

“Doe-eyes?” Bela piped up, drawing a curious look from the freckled elf. “You’re back sooner than expected. And you have some color back in your face.” There was a slight flush on Larins tattooed cheeks, then a smile as she slipped whatever thoughts rose, away.

“Anders was kind enough to heal me, so I’m all better.” Fenris and Jale rolled their eyes at her emphasis, the first smirking.

“That doesn’t mean we think you’re all fine to go back to ‘work’; maybe to the clan however.” Fenris merely raised a brow at the glower she gave him. “Wouldn’t you say rest would still be good for her, mage?” He shot his question to Anders, who looked a little bewildered by their interaction.

“Yes, they are always this way.” Jale added, giving Io and Fenris a pointed look. The look that Anders shot between them was telling.

The man was jealous, maybe he felt left out, forgotten? It certainly proved further that nothing productive happened at the clinic.

 

***

 

It rankled, seeing how close and affectionate they all were, especially Iolarin and Fenris. The elf disdained him and Merrill on the basis of their magic, yet he was warm and receptive of her.

Anders knew he had no place to be jealous; he had left her and pretended to not remember the one night they had shared. He had long since lost his chance to be with her; she could choose whoever she wanted.

But did it have to be Fenris?

 

***

 

Io had turned to ignore Fenris’ jibe against her ability to take care of herself and had been the only one to catch the frown and jealousy on Tara’s face. When she slid her eyes, she saw Merrill leaning close to the dark-skinned human. It clicked then, who Merrill had feelings for; and the person the other harbored feelings for. All three seemed oblivious, and Io huffed.

And they heckled her about her feelings for Anders.

Hypocrites.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped up to Hawke, holding out a hand; at the very least she could assure them she wasn’t a threat regarding Fenris’ affections. The mage looked her up and down, then smirked, reaching to take her hand.

“So, this lot seems to have done a fine enough job looking after you. Fixed you right up, huh?” They tossed their dark red hair over their shoulder, holding little Karl with one arm, and shaking her hand with the other. It was a tight grasp that Io returned. It seemed to widen Tara’s smirk.

“And you’ve got broody to show a whole other emotion. Who knew the elf could be a mother hen?” Varric chuckled reaching out to shake her hand as well.

“What can I say; birds of a feather flock together. Weird lot, we all seem to be.” She smiled at her friends, and stuck her tongue out at Fenris, who ignored her.

When Merrill and Tara handed her the twins, she finally braved turning towards Anders. It was a little shameful; hiding behind her children. But she was afraid too many emotions would surface, with him. There was too much between them.

He stood a little away, as if he felt like an outsider. It struck her as odd. But then Fenris nudged him forward, and she introduced the little ones.

Her precious children, who grabbed at her dress and drooled a little.

 

***

 

Anders felt weak in the knees, as Fenris shoved him forward.

She looked nearly like some painting, standing there in that green embroidered dress, skin sun kissed brown, infants squirming in her arms. She held a shy, yet proud look on her face.

The babies looked much like all babies did so young; downy light colored hair, creamy blotchy skin, big blue eyes. Their ears were rounded yet longer than a humans, and they were larger than elven babies, though small still, indicating how early she went into labor. He watched her look down at them, unwavering love for them.

He had wondered how she would handle it, having her attacker’s children. Seeing her now, it was obvious it didn’t matter who the father had been. He couldn’t find it in him to look at them differently either; they were hers, and beautiful.

And he ached, knowing he would never have anything like it.

“Do you want to hold one?” His heart skipped a beat, her silvery voice penetrating his maudlin thoughts. He held out shaky hands, nodding mutely.

This young, he couldn’t tell the two apart just looking at their faces, so he was unsure which child she helped cradle in his arms.

“This is Karl, he likes to sleep a lot.” She gave a breathy laugh, and held up the child in her arms. “This is Solona. She is very demanding for attention.”

 

***

 

The look on Anders face as they sat down, her son cradled against his chest, did funny things to her stomach and heart. He looked so right, like that. He whispered little nonsense to the baby boy, and would turn his attention to her daughter, carefully reaching out to stroke the rounded face.

She listened with half an ear as Tara and Varric told them what happened in the deeproads, voice deepening as she worked past what happened to her brother. Everyone gave angry remarks, and vows of vengeance against Bartrand.

“We plan on sending a small expedition to retrieve what treasure we did find, though only those we trust. I plan on using some of that to track the bastard down. And to buy the family home. I can give mother that much.” Io had never met the Hawke matron, but had on occasion heard the others mention her. It hadn’t always been kind; they weren’t fond of the way the woman seemed to blame Tara for her sister’s death.

“Do you want me to go with you, when you tell her?” Merrill offered, looking concerned.

“I should go alone. At least he is alive, thanks to Anders. I can offer her that solace.” There was a somber silence, which Varric soon filled.

“So, freckles, you ready to tell us exactly what happened? Andrastes tits’ but the difference is a little whiplash in comparison.” His question pulled her away from watching Anders and her children, and she pondered it, before he continued. “And maybe now we can get some definitive answers for who all did it to you.” Her back went ramrod straight.

“Drop it, dwarf.” Fenris jumped to her rescue, but gave her a pointed look nonetheless. He still felt the others deserved to know. Everyone at the table stared at the elf man in shock, and suspicion.

“You know who it is.” Anders voice was low, and he was glaring dangerously at Fenris.

Jale looked uncomfortable, sitting between the two men as they stared each other down. “Larin will tell us when she’s ready…” He tried interposing, but trailed off at the tense silence around them.

A loud scuffle was heard at the front of the pub then, and Io was thankful when they all turned around to see what it was. Three men were arguing, one barely steady on his feet as the other two tried to escort him out. His face stood out, and Io stood sharply.

Samson was unkempt, dark circles around his bloodshot eyes. His speech was slurred, demanding more ale, the other men refusing, demanding payment on debts.

Thugs, preying on the weak. Lyrium withdrawal written all over the former Templar.

She couldn’t stand by and watch this.

He had saved her life.

She had caused him this one.

Iolarin turned, passing her daughter into Bela’s arms, pulling her cowl up around her face.

 

***

 

The ex-Templars name had slipped from her lips, distress widening her eyes, and in an instant, it seemed she was across the room. He tried to stand, ready to hand the baby boy off to intercede, when he saw Fenris shoot after her.

He watched in confusion as Iolarin stepped between the men, hand on a dagger. She said something he didn’t catch, and the men looked between her and Fenris, and whatever she said after that made them back away, bowing slightly.

“Now that’s an interesting sight.” Varric quipped as they watched her fling a purse at the men, then lean the drunken man against her. Fenris followed her, as she walked past their table, and the others stood to follow.

She disappeared into a back room, shutting the door in all their faces.

“What the bloody fuck was that?” Tara shot Fenris a look.

“Made a bit of a name for herself, that one. Bet she ran those thugs off for good, huh?” Bela input, wiggling her brows at Fenris, who glared at her, then at the closed door.

“Threatened them, payed them off, and made it clear no one was to go after the man again, nor supply him with Lyrium.” Fenris muttered, crossing his arms.

“Who is he to her?” Fenris shook his head, Tara’s question unanswered. Anders wondered the same thing.

 

***

 

“Who-who do you think you are. I don’t need yer help.” The man struggled against her, and she was thankful for Anders healing her. She was holding up well enough to get him into bed herself.

“Hush. Drink this.” She pulled a vial from her pouch, and his eyes latched onto the blue filled glass.

“Lyrium.” He drank it down greedily, and Io felt a surge of anger rise in her. Look at the great and Merciful chantry; beggaring a man, and leaving him lesser on dependence to a substance they controlled. Fitting punishment, she supposed they thought, for helping a mage.

For helping her.

His breathing slowed, as the potion worked into his bloodstream, and he lay in the bed silently. She lowered her cowl, dosing a rag in the bucket of water on the table. She wiped his brow, hair, and cheeks. He looked terrible. How long since she had seen him last?

“I recognize those eyes…” He stared blearily up at her, and she went to pull her cowl back up, afraid of him knowing who she was. But his hand gripped her wrist. “You’re supposed to be dead, or tranquil.” His speech was still slurred, and grip weakening enough she pulled away with a sharp tug.

“You’re drunk. I’m no one.”

“You’re the pretty little starling of a mage the great Knight Ca-“ She slapped her hands over his face, heart pounding in her ears. They couldn’t know. Anders could never know. She couldn’t let the truth get out.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut, or so help me I’ll cut your tongue out.” The threat made her sick, and her body shook. Then she felt him chuckling under her hands.

“So, the little bird grew talons.” He shook his head, her hands dropping to her side. “He’s no friend of mine, and I have no love of the chantry. Why should I?” Then his reddened eyes narrowed on her face again. “Why you so afraid of me sayin’ his name?” He flicked a glance at the door, and her heart sped up again, moving to stand in front of his vision.

“You’ll never mention that man, nor what you know of what happened in the circle.” Another threat, and he was not so stupid he didn’t see deeper.

“You protecting him? Seems some powerful friends you have, and a good reason to seek revenge.” He sat up, shaky and weak.

“Please…” She pleaded, pushing him back down gently when he tried to stand. “Haven’t enough people been hurt, knowing?” She didn’t understand his frown, and searching look he gave her.

“Messed you up good.” Then he shook his head again with a dry laugh, laying down. “Seems he’s good at that. Kept you a pretty song bird in a cage, and me a beggar and laggard on the street.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re drunk. Stay here to sober up.” She’d manage his tab with the pub too.

“Don’t need you taking care of me. Not how thas supposed tah work.” She waited until he started snoring before leaving the room. Only to walk right into the huddle of her friends surrounding the door, unmoved from where she had rudely closed the door in their faces.

Fenris was glaring at her, likely unhappy with her intervening at all. He coddled her far too much. The others wore looks between curious and suspicious. She shifted uncomfortably.

“He was a Templar when I knew him.” She shrugged, unwilling to delve farther. “When I first came here.” She wondered if they suspected Samson, Fenris being the only one who knew the truth. But she didn’t want to give them any reason to question him, thinking he’d give them answers, so she wouldn’t tell them anything more.

None of them could know the truth. She wouldn’t be the reason anyone else was hurt.

She cleared her throat as they continued to stare. She grabbed her daughter from Isabella, catching Jale’s concerned gaze. “I’m feeling tired, can we go back now?”

 

***

 

She came out of the room with her gaze lowered, voice small. Ander’s hated the change. She wouldn’t really meet their eyes, glossing over her reaction as if they’d leave it be.

He wouldn’t have, but Tara touched his arm, shaking her head. Then she nodded to Fenris, who was watching Iolarin with a worried frown, and no anger. He knew the person who had hurt her, and didn’t react as if Samson had been it. But as he watched, the brooding elf just helped her put on a sling to carry the infant in her arms, careful of his movements and silent.

Tara had said something, on their travels. None of them could understand what Iolarin had gone through, how she could react if they reversed the rite, but Fenris would be most likely to have an inkling. She’d sarcastically said their background would be similar, trauma relatable.

He knew enough of what slavery was like in Tiventer; and Fenris’ own comments on it proved enough. Tara had mused that Fenris might know how to act around her better. They hadn’t gone through anything similar, they wouldn’t know how to tell how she might react.

 

_“There’s a certain trauma you experience, from something like that, it changes you.” Her gaze had flicked toward Carver passed out on the other side of the fire. “Even war changes you. Carver was different when we came here, after the war. Night Terrors, angry, sensitive about conflict and death. We knew a girl, in Lothering, who had been found in the woods abandoned by highway men. She couldn’t bear to be touched, and would break into hysterics. Men terrified her, even years later. You don’t know what they could be thinking, feeling. There’s a lot of guilt that could show up too.”_

_She had finished her drink, staring into the fire thoughtfully. “Fenris knows something about trauma like that, I think he’d see things we couldn’t. If he stops being stubborn enough to get to know a mage, I think he’d be able to help. Fenris broke free of all that. Maybe he’d help her.” She’d patted his shoulder, going to leave._

_“Don’t get too jealous if he does.” She winked at him, he had challenged her the same._

 

He wanted to understand what was going on in Io’s mind, why she was so withdrawn, understand what had happened to her.

But he wouldn’t really understand. Maybe she didn’t understand, either. But he would be there for her, and he wouldn’t leave her again.

Anders adjusted the fussy boy in his arms, walking over the three elves, careful not to touch her, the way Fenris and Jale were. The smith grabbed the fussy child from him, snuggling him into the cart, followed shortly by Solona when Io had finished feeding her. Karl calmed down when his sister was next to him, and both giggled and wiggled around.

“Will you be going back to the clan today?” He wondered how integrated she had become there, vallaslin holding great meaning among dalish. Io smiled, though her eyes never directly caught his.

“Not today. I’ve been staying at Jale’s house, while healing. I should be returning soon, I suppose.” The others strolled over, and Hawke spoke.

 

***

c

“Aveline says you’ve been managing finances and trade deals with Jale and some merchants?” Io shot the redhead a look, to which she only shrugged. Of course, Avilne had glossed over some of the shadier work Io did; the woman liked to tune any talk of it out, being captain of the guard.

“That’s….  one way of putting it.” Bela snickered next to her and Io rolled her eyes. “Why?”

“Seem’s I’ll be coming into a pretty large fortune here soon; while I imagine my mother might know more about managing all that, I was wondering if you could help. And with reclaiming my family estate?” Tara ignored the insinuation of Io doing anything not particularly legal, and leaned against the table.

“Well, what exactly do you have in mind for it all? Did you want to store some of it, and trade some of it in for coinage? Family estate shouldn’t be too hard, just a bunch of legal work. I can handle stuff like that. Even setting up a team to go retrieve it all.” She flushed at the impressed look the tall woman gave her.

“She’s always this way. I’m sure she ran Kinloch, practically, sometimes. Not to mention insanely smart, and boring. Who likes doing sums and all that business nonsense?” Her heart skipped, hearing Anders jest about Kinloch. It brought her back to those years ago, when he’d tease her about her bookishness, joking with her. Her heart yearned for that time. Life had been so much simpler.

“I never said I liked doing it. I was just the only one who was ever any good at it. Unlike you. Tell me Anders, what’s two plus two?” Her pulse raced as she shot back at him, a sly grin twitching her lips.

“You wound me. At least I spent my time enjoying myself.”

“Notice how you didn’t answer the question. Ah yes, brooding and hatching plans of escape are wonderfully joyful things.” Merrill laughed, the others chuckled around them after. Iolarin’s cheeks flushed deeply, and she grinned at the elf woman.

“Do you always bicker this way? Just like an old married couple.” She linked her thin arms through Io’s.

“Bit more vicious than she bickers with Fenris, too. Never called him stupid. All teeth doe-eyes.” Bela was at her other side, and Io began to relax more. These were her friends. She was safe and cared for.

 

***

 

He had been unsure if the teasing would be a good idea, but she had quipped back as always, and she seemed to be relaxing into the two women, smiling and laughing with them. He had made the right choice.

“Oooh, can we all sleep over at your home Jale? Like camping without the cold and bugs.” Merrill blinked wide green eyes at the man, and Anders chuckled at the near horrified look that crossed the man’s face for a moment. He wondered how often he had to babysit this lot.

“I dunno if we could all fit on my bed Merrill.” Io teased, biting her lip.

“I bet we could. It is very big. Just a bit of a tight fit is all.” Merrill looked around at everyone skeptically. “A very tight fit.” Io burst out laughing, leaning forward slightly.

“Maybe it’s you Merrill. You’re just too big.” She tickled the elf’s slim waist. “Everyone else could fit.”

“Wanna make a bet on it?” Bela leaned in, wiggling a brow at her.

“Not with you pirate.” Io shoved playfully against the woman’s hip.

“I don’t know, this sounds like a lucrative investigation.” Tara joined in, and Anders watched the poor smiths face fall further.

“You’re all going to break that bed, trying to fit everyone on it.” Fenris chipped in, smirking at them.

“Are you calling us fat, Fenris? How rude.” Io reached out to shove his shoulder. Anders had to look away, jealousy hard to overcome. Jale sighed in defeat.

“I’ll pull out the blankets when we get back.” He started to push the cart along, and Io looped an arm through Fenris’, prodding his side, making him squirm a little.

“I bet you weigh more than I do.” She teased, then pulled her cowl over her face again. They made their way out of the pub, and cold air nipped at their faces.

Io shuddered, and he frowned watching her lean into Fenris. It continued until they reached the stairs, when Fenris extracted himself to help Jale fold up the cart, an interesting gadget, and carry it up the stairs.

He cast a suspicious look towards Tara, who ‘accidentally’ bumped Io into him. She smiled shyly up at him, dark skin reddened around her exposed cheeks, ears and fingers. And she was shivering slightly.

“The cold is a bit biting here.” He cupped her hands to breathe warmth into them, thankful for his own mittens. “You should wear gloves.”

 

***

 

Io was glad her face was so cold; her blush wouldn’t be noticeable. “It’s hard to hold a sword with gloves, my hands are so small.” She defended. She started as Merrill called to her. She looked up, seeing her friends starting up the stairs. The knowing looks made her embarrassment worse.

Then the blond man linked their arms, urging her up. He was warm next to her, and the cold did sting. So, she stayed by his side all the way to Jale’s house.

 

***

 

He should feel guilty, treasuring the way she latched herself to his side. Camping with Krista during her time as commander, and that year in isolation, the cold didn’t bother him much anymore.

Her eyes were slightly droopy, and she shuddered as they entered the smithy, heat of the forge blasting them as the door closed. Yet he felt colder when she pulled away to take her cloak and cowl off.

“Are we really going to try to fit on this bed?” He prodded, hanging his own cloak. He looked around the shop, arms and armour hanging and displayed about. Io laughed, ducking behind the counter, pulling out some scrolls.

“You lot are certainly welcome to do as you please. I’ll be dropping off blankets and going to my own bed.” Jale sulked, leaving the room.

“Such a recluse, that man. I think all the company is good for him.” Iolarin quipped, the pinkness still tipping her pointed ears. She waved them all up the stairs, Fenris going first to settle the babies.

The room was crowded, with all of them shoving in there. Io and Merrill pushed the bed against a wall, making more space. Aveline stood by the door, rolling her eyes at it all.

“I will leave you lot to this. I’m heading back to the barracks.” She ducked out before anyone could argue, trailing mirthful laughter.

A fire was raging against the far wall, Fenris settling the infants in their cradle, and Io fussing over them.

“Sleep well, my little ones.” She whispered, kissing them, then covering them in a shimmering shield. “Helps dampen noise, though not block out. If you all really plan on staying the night, be prepared for some broken sleep.” Her voice was lilting, and she grabbed the pile of blankets on the floor, dropped by the bed, then grabbed some clothes from her drawers.

“Want me to help you change?” Bela teased, and Anders damned himself for the heat rushing through him at that imagery.

“I should be fine on my own, Bela.” Her tone was mock chiding, and she disappeared into the hall. The women settle on the bed, joking amongst themselves, Fenris sat in the chair by the cradle, and Varric was inspecting Iolarin’s very cluttered desk. Anders rested by the fireplace.

“What exactly does freckles do for money?” He flashed them a letter with the viscount’s seal on it.

“That, if you must know, is a permit to buy up an apartment in lowtown, for charity. Helping get people off the streets, provide schooling, and rehabilitation.” As beautiful as she had been in her dress, he liked what she changed into better. He had never seen her in pants before, and now she wore loose short ones that showed her ankles, and a droopy green lace up shirt. Her bare feet padded the ground, toes wiggling as she stood in the door way.

“How did you manage that?” Varric raised an impressed brow.

“Blackmail, threats, bribery, mostly.” She smirked, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

“No one really knows what Larin does. We mostly just see her doing paperwork.” Merrill informed, and Io winked at the dwarf.

“It’s a mystery.” She hurried over to the bed, snuggling close to Bela. The rivaini woman yelped, slapping Io’s thigh as she shoved her feet underneath the blanket.

“Your feet are like ice, brat.” Io chuckled and wiggled her feet under the blanket, putting them against Bela again. “I’ll push you off this bed.” The pirate pushed Io’s legs away.

“Io, you should sing for us, won’t you?” Anders adored the long suffering look she gave the other elf.

“Merrill.” She whined, and looked to Fenris for help.

“Don’t look at me,” His gravelly voice low, he chuckled at her helpless expression. “I agree with her, for once.”

“Well, let’s get in this bed and hear it.” Verric herded Anders over, pushing him gracelessly next to Larin, moving to sit on the end against the bed pole. Fenris took the spot on Tara’s other side.

“I’m really outnumbered here, aren’t I?” She shook her head, and her shoulder bumped his as she adjusted, leaning against the headboard. “What do you want me to sing?”

“Surprise us.” Tara threw the rest of the blankets over them. Even just sitting as they were the bed was very crowded, and he doubted their experiment would go to well if they all tried to lay down.

“Alright. I’ll sing one, the keeper taught it to me.

_Melava inan enansal_

_ir su araval tu elvaral_

_u na emma abelas_

_in elgar sa vir mana_

_in tu setheneran din emma na_

_lath sulevin_

_lath araval ena_

_arla ven tu vir mahvir_

_melana ‘nehn_

_enasal ir sa lethalin”_

 

Her voice trailed off, reverberating through the room. It sent tingles down his spine. In all his years knowing her, he had never heard her sing once.

“That was damn near haunting, doe-eyes. What was it about?” Anders saw Bela leaning on her knees, pleased smirk on her lips; Merrill was dozing against Tara, and Fenris looked close to doing the same; Varric seemed a little entranced.

“It’s a song about pain and enduring on. I believe she said it was tied to losing Arlathan.” She looked at Merrill, who nodded sleepily. Then she leaned her head back, staring up at the canopy.

They fell into thoughtful silence, Merrill and Fenris falling sleep against Tara, who smiled contently, closing her eyes; Varric was leaning against the post, eyes closed and nearly asleep. Bela tucked herself into the corner, settling in.

He was the last one awake, very aware of Iolarin pressed against him. At one point her head lolled onto his shoulder, face screwed up in dreams. He wonders what they’re about, before the weariness and drain of the last few weeks catch up with him, and he drifts off.

He only wakes again when he feels her jolt against him, her breathing harsh. He blinks his eyes open, the embers of the fire providing little light to see by. Her eyes reflect what light there is, and he can see sweat glistening on her dark skin. She tries to leave the bed, and he unconsciously reaches for her. Only too late does he realize she’s panicked, and a muffled sob leaves her lips.

“Larin,” Her eyes are on him, and she is shaking, tears on her face. Slowly he pulls her against his chest, giving her time to pull away. She settles into him, silent, but her pulse under his hands is still erratic. “It’s okay love, I’m here. You’re safe. They’ll never hurt you again.”

Anders feels her hands grip onto his shirt, and whispers back to him. “I’m not afraid for me.” He rests an unshaven cheek on her course hair, running his hands over it soothingly. Another key to the puzzle; he wondered how long they had threatened the people she cared about, and feared how much damage they had done to her, when they branded Karl.

“It will be okay, Larin. No one is going anywhere.” They huddled like that for a while, crackling of the embers the only noise aside from breathing and occasional snoring. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, content with the thought of her staying there in his arms.

He vowed to never let anyone hurt her ever again, nor threaten her. She was so precious to him.

Then he heard the muffled crying of infants, and she hurried off him and the bed, entering the protection of the shield, lifting one of the children. He joins her, though averts his gaze when she pulls up the chair and unlaces the top of her shirt to nurse. He looks into the cradle at the other crying baby, and lifts them out, rocking gently.

He manages to get the little one to quiet down, though he’s not sure how his awkward attempt managed it. “She likes you.” Io whispered, and he kept his gaze fixed to her face. The dim light reflected harshly off of the shiny skin of scars on her face, and he noted more on her chest, darker against the paler skin.

He had seen it already, of course; he had examined her shortly after her rescue. Her body was covered in them, and he had healed much more damage hidden inside her. Broken and badly healed bones, even some bruising and healing wounds. The scars he could do nothing about, and he had gone nearly sick with anger over them.

He didn’t notice how long he had been staring, far past simply rude. Her face was reddening, and she looked away from him.

“Vallaslin makes them hardly noticeable most of the time.” Her voice was tight, and he was at a loss to fix his blunder.

“They made me angry, when I first saw them. They still do.” He drew closer, reaching to trace one going down her jaw. “You should never have suffered like this.”

 

***

 

His fingers on her skin were like lightning. She hated how she must look. She had been comely before, striking features many found exotic. She knew it had been what drew Cullen to her; and to do what he had done to mar it. Now she was twisted, those things that drew lust and attention scarred and malformed.

She didn’t want him to look at the scars. Touching them, that was even worse. She gave a bitter wet smile.

She had been lulled into peace, on the bed in his arms; now reality was slamming back down. He had looked right, rocking Solona in the dim light, and she wished more than anything that he loved her children; deeper even that he was their father, something that could never be.

For him and her children, she fought down all emotions, striving to keep all bitterness away.

It had hurt so much less when she had pretended everything was okay.

When Karl stops nursing, she offers the child to Anders, who trades her carefully. He respectfully keeps his eyes from her chest as she adjusts and nurses her daughter. Her breast had once been nicely buxom, especially for an elf, and now they were swollen with milk and large, nipples chaffed and red from nursing.

When the baby is finished, she tucks them both back into the cradle, humming them to sleep with their lullaby. She turns to head back to the bed, at least to pretend to sleep, when his arms wrap around her shoulders and chest against her back. It brings a lump to her throat.

“I thought you had died, in the Circle. Then I lost you again to them.” His breath, unshaven face, prickling her neck, making heat swell through her. “I missed you, and I don’t ever want to lose you again.” Her heartbeat loud in her ears, she reaches up to touch his arms, soft downy blond hairs tickling her palms.

“I won’t be going anywhere.” She swore, sighing when he nodded. His long blond hair tickled her neck and shoulders. She wished she could stay there, find solace in his embrace. The moment is broken though when a loud snore echoed through the room, Merrill’s mouth wide open. She laughed weakly, a longing sense of loss when Anders pulls away, in his absence.

She watched as Fenris woke a little, glaring at Merrill’s snoring, kicking her until she burrows into Tara’s side; he pulls his blanket up higher, face pressed against the woman’s other shoulder.

“They make a cute picture.” She commented quietly, watching the three of them.

“Dense as rocks sometimes though,” He agreed, moving to stand beside her. She peered up at him under long lashes, a smile curling the corners of her full lips.

 

***

 

The way she looked at him, he wanted to kiss her. He knew where Bela had picked the nickname; she looked much like a doe in that moment, large black eyes staring up at him through her lashes.

He knew better though. His advances would be unwelcome, and likely harmful to her stability.

By Andraste though, she was as beautiful as ever.

He smiled down at her, then looked back to the very crowded bed. Bela and Varric seemed to have stretched into the spaces they had vacated, leaving little room for them.

“Would you like some coffee?” She walked over to the bed, pulling her blanket off to wrap around her shoulders.

“That sounds nice.” He followed her down the stairs, into the kitchen. She stirred the fire, throwing in another log, and hung the kettle. They settled around the small table, watching the flames billow to life.

“I come into town about four times a week, for training and business.” She informed him, though her gaze was far off. “I’m not sure how much winter will affect that; nor the kinds of storms we may see. It’s hard to tell, it was always biting and unforgivingly cold in the tower last year.” Two mages had lost appendages to frostbite, nearly dying from hypothermia.

“What will the Dalish do, should the weather worsen?” He worried for her and the children outside in the cold.

“Likely retreat into the caves there. Safe enough, I should think.” She stood, unhooking the kettle, pouring steaming water through a sieve into their cups, water coming out with the thick aroma of coffee. She blew at it, sipping the drink carefully. He followed suit.

He didn’t think he could invite her to stay at the clinic, hardly fit for housing infants and another apostate. Yet he was not fond of her hiding out in a cave with the dalish either. He wondered if Tara had meant her offer to take Iolarin in, when they settled matters with the estate and treasure. He would ask her in the morning.

They finished their coffee, then made their way back upstairs. The bed had been completely overtaken, and they shook their heads.

“If you go into the next room there should be some large sitting pillows we can lay out.” And they did, closer to the fire to stay warm.

Eventually he drifted into a light slumber, though he awoke every time she got up to feed or clean the babies, helping her as best as he could.

When dawn came, he didn’t think either of them had really gotten much sleep, but he felt better rested than he had in a while.

Just seeing her safe and alive soothed so much of his worry.

He didn’t have much of a chance to ask Tara anything, when Iolarin swept them away to begin working on everything.

“Nothing like the present; better to get it all done now and out of the way.” She had said, and taken Hawke with her to talk to contacts and sort everything out.

In fact, it was a week before any of them got together again, with Iolarin returning to the clan with the infants, reopening the clinic, and getting all of their affairs in order.


	2. 30th Day of Kingsway, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add my lil blurb at the begining of last chapter, but it is there now if you wan to check it out. Don't forget to look for the side chapters to this series, two of which have just been posted. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders was afraid. He was afraid he was too broken, afraid of things he wanted desperately. Anders feared he would be the reason he would lose the woman he loved.

30th Day of Kingsway, 3:32 DRAGON

 

Iolarin was careful to keep any of her business with the coterie away from the others. Athenril had sent her on minimal errands; business negotiations, shady backroom deals, and one smuggling run that had kept her out all night. It had been lucrative though, and there had been very little fighting with the latter; she hadn’t needed to use her magic once.

The first load of treasure would be arriving the next week, and had already been verified through the Viscounts offices.

She and Tara were just leaving those same offices, deed in the red-heads hands. Tara expressed their gratitude.

“Mother will certainly appreciate this. We should be moved in by the week, I bet.” Io laughed, shaking her head.

“Hardly letting the ink dry, are we?” They made their way together towards lowtown, there Io would pick up the twins from Merrill, and head back to the clan.

“The sooner the better, Gamlen is at the end of his rope, and it will help mother to have things to do.” Tara smiled, though they had a far off look in their eyes. “Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten; while you certainly don’t need any looking after now, you should know you are invited to come stay at the estate, indefinitely.” The other mage grinned down at her, causing Io to blink owlishly a few times. “I think it would give Anders peace of mind; there’s an entrance into the estate right near his clinic, so you would be closer.”

Io looked away, thinking it over. She wasn’t sure how favorable the keeper might find her moving into the city, nor how safe it would be for her. Yet it would be the perfect place to hide her children, who stood out amongst the dalish. She could also better preform her work if she lived there as well.

“Mother has also agreed on another thing, we had started arranging before we even left; claiming you and the children as Amells.” It made her heart clench, hearing this admission. It provided her a name she could use, a name that would protect her children’s lives and future.

Though Tara did not know it, Amell was a name that struck deep into Io’s heart. Another way to honor a long lost friend? She looked up at Tara, studying them carefully.

“Why do all this? You don’t even really know me.” It seemed so much to offer.

“Honestly? It isn’t for your sake; it’s for Anders, and the others. They care for you, and if it gives them peace of mind and makes them happy; well, I’d do anything for my friends.” They shrugged, hands in pockets. So nonchalant about it all.

“I need to talk to the keeper, and think it over, a little. Can I answer you later?” It was a lot to consider.

“Take all the time you need; the offer doesn’t have an expiration date. Well, here is where I leave you.” They began walking, waving a hand lazily, before turning back. “Do me a favor though; visit Anders? It’d do him a lot of good.” There was a smirk on their lips before they turned back and disappeared into the crowd.

Io decided to make a slight detour, heading down further to darktown to visit the blond in the clinic.

There was a crowd of people outside the clinic when she arrived. She stood in the back, watching as many others were. Anders was a genius healer, a fixating sight to watch. Light emanated from his hands and eyes, passing over the young man on the table. Being close as she was, she could feel the hum of magic, of the fade, on her skin and in her core. These days, she spent very little time in the fade. She had too much of a tendency to wandering there, stumbling upon other sleeping forms.

She watched him, watched the fatigue such magic put on him. Her heart ached for him; striving to help so many people, with such a heavy cost. When he had finished with his patients, she followed him after he disappeared into a back room. Entering, she closed the door behind her.

He must have noticed her, but his back was turned, and he was leaning heavily over a bucket of water, some droplets dripping from his hair.

“It’s a little hypocritical for you to have chastised me for pushing myself, seeing the way you’ve just pushed yourself.” She commented, lowering her cowl. “Don’t you agree?”

“I’m fine, Larin.” Yet she could still feel how diminished his magic was, how taxed his body was. He pushed himself too far. Her dear sweet healer, who never seemed to take the care for himself he gave to others.

 

***

 

He stared down at his reflection, face pale and hair sticking to it. He didn’t want her to see him so weak.

Yet then her hand was on his shoulder, turning him to face her. Her black eyes wide with concern, her hand reaching to brush the strands from his face. He wanted so badly to lean into her hand, soak up the comfort of her presence. Anders knew better though, he had to keep his distance.

There was too much between them, so much he couldn’t say. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he was so afraid he would.

“Please tell me what you are thinking Anders.” Her words were soft, earnest. Staring into his eyes, unblinking and searching. “Don’t shut me out.” He had to step back, pulling her hand from his face, clasping it between his own. It was hard to think, with her so close.

“I’m not the same person any more. So much has happened.” He looked away, taking a deep breath and releasing her hand.

“You never stopped being someone I care about, Anders. Nothing could make that happen. No matter how much you may think you’ve changed.” Her voice was sharp, and his heart thudded as she stepped closer to him again.

“You wouldn’t understand, Iolarin-“ He sucked in a deep breath when her hand flew up, smacking across his cheek. The mark stung, and he looked at her in mild disbelief. There was hurt and disappointment burning her cheeks red, eyes glowering.

“Don’t you dare tell me I wouldn’t understand. Is it the spirit part you think I wouldn’t understand?” She began pacing, spouting off angrily. “In case it missed your notice, you’re not the only one around here hosting one. Maybe it’s the imprisonment, isolation, you spent a year going through?” Her laugh was bitter, stinging more than his face did.

“I’ve got news for you; you’re not the only one who went through that. Or maybe it’s losing Karl? You may have been the one to end his suffering, but I am the reason he was like that in the first place, _I am the one who killed him, he died because of me_!” Her voice had risen, and she’d turned on him; he saw the tears brimming her eyes.

Her words shocked him, and he reached out for her, hugging her close.

She blamed herself for what happened to Karl?

 She pushed at him weakly. “Don’t you tell me I wouldn’t understand. Don’t you dare push me away, as if you were some horrible unlovable person. You’re not.” _I am._ She did not say the words, but he felt them hanging there. He had kept himself away from her the past week, afraid of the way she made him feel.

He had been wrong to. He saw that now.

“It isn’t your fault, what happened to Karl. Please don’t say that you are; he would not have you think it.” He lifted her face, staring long into her red rimmed eyes.

He nearly leaned in, nearly pressed his chapped lips to her soft full ones, when a loud knocking came from the door. “Anders! Healer, there’s a man here who needs you.” Io pulled away abruptly, and he hurried to the door, ripping it open.

 

***

 

He had been staring at her so intently, she had almost thought he would kiss her. Or she him. The banging on the door had sent her nearly out of her skin, and she followed Anders as he left the room.

Anger surged in her again as she saw the man being dragged in; Samson, hung limply between two men, was badly beaten and unconscious.

“He got on the wrong side of lyrium smugglers; left him lying in an alley this way.” One of the men said, and she surged to help lift the ex-Templar onto the table.

“Will you help me heal him, Io? We must hurry.” She nodded to Anders, pouring what healing she could do into the man. They worked for a great deal of time, sweat beading Anders’ brow.

When they had healed his injuries, Io helped the blond pour a sleeping draught down Samson’s throat.

“The beginnings of withdrawal are setting in, from the look of things.” Anders leaned heavily against a pillar, once they were done, and she looked worriedly between the two men.

“He’ll get himself killed if he keeps dealing with smugglers. Either by them, or the chantry.” She bit at her lip. “Or the lyrium.”

“Can’t do much to help him, not that I’d say he doesn’t deserve it. Sold Feynriel practically to slavers.” He retorted, casting the man a disgusted look.

“He saved my life, in the circle. I have to believe his is worth saving too; lyrium is a cruel thing to non-mages, Anders.”

 

***

 

Her voice was gentle, kind even. Anders felt a bit at a loss, seeing how sympathetically she looked at the drunkard on the table. How could she see any hope for the man?

“I want to help them Anders; anyone hurt or abused by the chantry, or anyone in power. Mages, elves, people like Samson. I want to build a better future for them. Where mages are free of the chantry, where they can love and have family; where elves are no longer segregated, and treated as inferior; where the strong and powerful do not harm the weak.” There was passion in her voice, and he remembered how fierce she had been in Kinloch. As he had then, he felt as if she really could do it. She sounded so sure.

“How can you care so much, Larin? After everything you’ve been through?” How could she love so much, fight, after everything? He found it harder, to fight for justice, the longer he watched how horrible the world could be.

“If I don’t care, who will? Someone needs to stand up and do something. I won’t wait for someone else to do it. I won’t wait while they do to others what they did to Karl, Samson, or you.” She looked at him, fierce and determined in her words. “I refuse.”

He had fallen in love with her for her vindications and unwavering conviction of doing what was right. It had been his reason for joining with justice; to follow those very beliefs. He had wavered though, feeling hopeless about it all. Here she stood, having suffered atrocities, with her head held high and beliefs unshaken.

How did she do it?

 

***

 

The way he stared at her, it made her a bit self-conscious. She looked down at the back of her hands, black skin unmarred there. Maybe she was foolish, dreaming so big.

“You’ve always been such a wonder, Larin.” There was laughter in his voice, and awe. He approached her slowly, reaching up to pat her head. “Ever since I met you.” He looked back over to Samson. “You mentioned setting up a house, in Lowtown, for people who needed it. I’ll have someone take him there, if it’s ready?” She had to smile at him, thankful for his praise and support.

“It is. He may not be very happy about it all, but I’ll talk to him when he wakes tomorrow.” She nodded. “Now though, I’m very late for picking up the twins from Merrill.” She buckled her cloak closer, looking towards the door.

“You are heading back to the Clan?” She wondered if that was disappointment in his voice. “Would you mind the company then?” It would be nice to spend more time with him. They could catch up after so long apart.

“Alright. If you carry one of them.” She winked, and they made their way to the alienage. She pushed open Merrills door, only to find the dark-haired elf on the floor amidst kittens, blankets, and two giggling infants.

 She turned to look at Anders, only to burst into giggles at the look on his face as he leaned down to scoop up the runt, who had waddled over to them. “Aww, aren’t you just the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen?” He ran thin fingers over the white fur on its head.

“This little one is named Shartan, that one with the white paws is Jowan. The other two are Little Hawke, Merrills idea, and Nibbles – oddly enough Fenris named him. I think because he always bites at Fen’s toes.” She smiled, reaching out to pet Shartan.

“Why did you name one after Jowan?” He blinked, looking at her in confusion.

“Because she’s an asshole and peed on Nibbles.” She quipped, glaring at the white sock calico.

“Some unresolved anger there, love?” He teased. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Jowan doesn’t have a home, because she’s so mean to everyone. Evil, I tell you.” She shook her head. The kitten would hiss and spit at anyone who tried to pick her up.

As if to disprove her words though, Jowan wandered over, rubbing against Anders’ feet, purring loudly. He shot her an amused smile, handing her Shartan, and picking up the other one.

“Maybe I could take her with me. Do you think she’d fit in at the clinic?” He rubbed his cheek against her head, and Io’s heart melted. Good with infants and animals.  “She’s not Sir-Pounce-A-Lot, but I do miss having a cat.” Io smiled, shaking her head.

“If it means she stops peeing on my clothes, I say take her.” Merrill piped up, sitting up and blinking tired eyes. “I had to throw out those lovely mittens Feynriels mum made me. The smell of pee just wouldn’t wash out.” She looked so down trodden at those words, and Io laughed again.

“We wish you luck with her Anders.” She patted his shoulder, then walked over to grab her daughter from Merrills side. Merrill helped her tie the sling and settle the infant against her chest. Anders set the kitten on the table, and the women helped sling Karl to him.

“Say hello to Feynriel for me, won’t you? And Anders, be careful walking them back; no stepping into holes alright? It’s getting awful dark.” Merrill chatted, and Io smiled adoringly at her.

“Don’t worry Merrill, I’ll lead him should it be too dark.” She half teased, winking at him. Anders just rolled those golden eyes, exasperated.

“Elves and your glowing night eyes.” He muttered good-naturedly.

 

***

 

Anders had hidden the kitten in his vest, under the feathers adorning his collar. It lay there warm and purring as they made their way out of the city.

He had wondered what people saw, when they stared at them passing by. A family perhaps? It made his belly coil and warm at the thought, and he had to distract himself.

They weren’t his family. The Chantry and the Wardens had taken those possibilities from him.

They were half way from the city walls to the clan, and Io stared up at the dimming sky.

“Tara offered her home to me, today. And her family’s name. I’m not sure how to answer her.” She admitted, and his heart stuttered a little. He hadn’t been sure if Hawke had intended on keeping that promise, seeing as Io was no longer Tranquil. He wasn’t too surprised though, and he stared at Io a moment.

“If you want my opinion; I think it would be good to take Hawke’s offer. You’ll be closer, and it would be a good place for the little ones.” She would be closer to him, and he knew Hawke’s name would protect them.

“I thought so too. I’m not sure what Keeper will think though. Only recently reacquainted with my ancestry, and already going back to live amongst humans?” She laughed, shaking her head.

As it turned out, once they had reached the encampment, Marathari didn’t think it was such a bad idea after all.

“You are welcome here, da’len, and your children; do not doubt that.” The older elf said, staring at Io kindly. “But it may be safer for them, where they can blend in amongst humans. Where you can do as your heart calls for you to do.” Io had flushed, and he imagined the Keeper knew of her dreams for the future. She did always like to speak loudly and freely about them; even in the circle where such words and determinations could be used to hurt her.

“Thank you, Keeper, for your support.” Her ears were pink, pressed against her head slightly, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. In many ways, she still couldn’t hide all her emotions.

“We will hold a small ceremony, when you are to leave. Tonight, you should go warm yourselves.” Marathari had turned her eyes on him, smiling matronly. “Will you stay tonight, young mage? It is quite dark for a human such as yourself to be making the trek back.” Io flashed a look to him, though he wasn’t sure what she was feeling or thinking.

“Keeper is right; the mountain pass is hardly safe to travel during the day.” She had agreed sagely. So, he had relented.

Later, the Keeper found him alone, as Feynriel had taken Io aside to discuss something.

“You care for her a great deal, Anders.” It wasn’t a question, and she continued. “Be gentle with her; I do not think she has begun to cope or acknowledge what has happened to her, and it is only a matter of time before the dam breaks down.” Her words sounded so ominous, and he looked to where Io had disappeared.

“I don’t know how to help her with that, keeper.” He admitted, closing his eyes.

“Just let your love be unconditional, without judgement or demands; I don’t think that will be too hard for you to keep doing.” She smiled knowingly, stood and walked away. His ears burned, wondering if he was that obvious about it all.

Io came back, Feyn joining them, arms full of food. “You’re welcome to share our tent if you need, Anders.” The young man said, and Io nodded in agreement as she popped sweetmeats into her mouth. She hummed happily, gently bouncing the infant in her lap.

“I’ll miss the food the most, being in the city.” She said, reaching to grab another candy from the bag. Feyn just shook his head.

“You’ll miss the candy, you mean. You really should eat other things.” Anders laughed as she stuck her tongue out at the boy.

“You’ve always had a terrible sweet tooth, love. It’ll rot your teeth out.” She flashed him a toothy smile, pearly whites gleaming in contradiction.

“I don’t really care.” She shrugged, though Feyn swept the bag away when she reached for it. “Feyn, you better hand that bag over.” He grinned at her, laying the child he had been holding in the small cot nearby.

“You have to catch me first.” He jumped up and away from her reach. She copied him, laying her daughter next to her son, shooting up to chase him.

Anders watched fondly at their antics as Io chased Feyn and his bag of sweets around the fire. They shrieked in laugher, and he reached out the next time they passed him, when Iolarin had gotten the treats and was running from Feynriel.

“I’ve got her, Feynriel.” He announced, though at the last minute she danced out of his reach, a graceful spin. Too late though, as the younger mage tackled her, dragging them both to the ground.

 

***

 

She saw Anders’ outstretched hand, heard his words, and dodged out of his reach. That was when the memory hit her, same as Feynriel did. The wind rushed from her lungs, and her body stiffened.

_“I’ve got her, Karl!”_

_“Those mages you spend every hour with. I see the way you drape yourself all over them, entrance them. I wonder if you told them how you spread those legs to a Templar.”_

“No!” She hardly knew what she was doing, when she shoved Feynriel off of her, memories swarming in and crushing her. “No!” She scrambled away, visions still tormenting her. She stood, body shaking.

Not again. No. No.

_Nononononononono._

She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling.

 

***

 

As soon as he had seen her face, Anders knew something was wrong. Then she screamed, shoving Feynriel off. The boy looked stricken as she pulled away, like a frightened deer.

He had barely had the chance to register it all, to stand, when Marathari was there, a sleep spell on her lips. He reacted just quick enough to catch Iolarin before she fell.

“I didn’t mean to!” Feyn whispered, hands covering his mouth as he stared at the woman’s sleeping form. Anders held her tightly, watching Marathari. The woman had a sad look on her face.

“It is nothing you did young Feynriel. Why don’t you head to bed, while Anders and I look after her?” He nodded numbly, picking up the cot and ambling into the tent.

“Why did you do that?” Anders demanded when the elder mage turned to him.

“There is no telling who she may have hurt if we failed to calm her another way.” She said sternly, then knelt next to him to look the woman in his arms over.

“I knew a young girl many years ago, who lived after a raid of humans attacked her hunting party. She was a mage, and would sometimes go into a fit where she thought she was being attacked by them all over again. Many people got hurt trying to figure out what was wrong.” She looked sad, brushing white and black hair from Io’s freckled face. “It took a very long time for her to be able to tell us. Whatever memory dear Iolarin relived, whatever the trigger was, we may never know.”

He started trembling, thinking about the look her face had taken when she had spun out of his reach. It was his fault, whatever had happened.

“I will have an aravel made up for you; if you wish to watch over her.” She stood, walking away. Anders wasn’t sure if he should; what if she awoke in terror? He was unequipped to help her.

All the same, he had stayed with her all night, restless for most of it. Eventually sleep had claimed him, just before dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >> I just feel so bad, rereading this story. It gets happy and sad and I might be crying. I hope you all enjoyed, please let me know! Your responses help me get through the week.  
> Do you guys think they'll kiss? Will Io come to terms with her Trauma? Do you think everyone just needs a good therapist? (Yes.)


	3. 1st Day of Harvestmere, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iolarin felt broken, deep inside. She Pushed and hid away those sharp broken pieces. But how long could she hide it before those edges tore her apart from the inside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'll just leave this here.

1st Day of Harvestmere, 3:32 DRAGON

 

Io woke to a warmth under her hands and cheek. She blinked open her eyes, groggy still from whatever magic Marathari had used. Her face stained deep red when Anders’ sleeping face came into view.

He had an arm wrapped around her, and she was pressed flush against him. She could hear his even heartbeat. Steady, soothing, and disarming.

She was afraid to so much as breathe, lest he wake up. Her heart was pounding, stomach twisting into knots. Slowly, she tried to detangle from him; only to cause him to stir.

Iolarin froze in place, going even redder, when he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times sleepily, before focusing on her face. She felt his arm tighten slightly around her waist, and got that odd feeling again that he might kiss her. She couldn't ignore how badly she wished him to, like that desperate thirst and sight of water after being locked in her cell.

She rose onto her arms, leaning slightly above him, that feeling coiling in her belly. His hands were on her arms, and she had started to lean forward when the door to the aravel banged open; Bela and Fenris’ faces coming into sight.

 

***

 

He had been sure he was dreaming, when he opened his eyes to see Iolarin wrapped around him. Her beautiful brown skin reddened and warm where his fingers brushed against it. He’d been about to kiss her, enjoying the image of her leaning over him when the door had startled her to the opposite wall, and proved he wasn’t dreaming. She seemed startled, breath coming out heavy and quick.

He couldn’t help the glare he shot at the offenders.

They looked disappointed.

“Sorry to interrupt. We came to collect Io for an adventure.” Bela had a coy cat-like smile, wiggling her finger at the elf woman.

“By adventure she means shopping.” Came Fenris’ droll explanation.

He was too busy gawking at the unlikely pair, he missed the sour look Io gave them both.

“I’m not here for the shopping.” Fenris defended. “Feynriel asked me to come check up on you.” Anders tensed, fuming at the worried look the elf man turned to Larin.

“I’m fine. Let’s not talk about it.” Her words were disapproving, and he watched her climb out of the door. He squashed down the longing and loss he felt, following after her.

 

***

 

She knew Fenris was the only one she could talk to about any of it; he already knew of Cullen. But she didn’t want the others prying. She heard Anders come out behind her, and hurried to her tent to retrieve the children and change.

When the flap closed behind her, she saw Feyn staring up at her with wide eyes; sad eyes. She had worried him again.

“I’m sorry, whatever I did wrong.” She shushed him softly, moving to wrap her arms around him.

“It isn’t your fault Feynriel. I’m sorry for frightening you.” She held him tightly, soothing him. It seemed to help, as his shoulders relaxed and he leaned into the embrace.

“Are you leaving now?” He whispered meekly. She pulled back, smiling at him.

“Yes, but I will be back tonight. And I have no plans for the city tomorrow. We will spend time together then?” She gave his arms a squeeze when he nodded at her, then moved to pull on new clothes. He helped her attach the twins, then escorted her to the others. She was careful to ignore Anders' probing stare, and all but hid between Bela and Fenris.

When they reached the city, they had parted from Anders, and made their way through the market. Bela and Fenris had refrained from questioning her, and the shopping had been brief.

Bela parted, saying she had business to take care of. She and Fenris made their way aimlessly for a while, before suggesting they get the twins out of the cold.

Now they were at the mansion he lived in, on the floor surrounded in pillows and blankets in front of the fire. Only once they had gotten the twins to sleep, did Fenris say anything.

“The keeper told me what happened.” It was a simple statement, but it made her chest feel tight, and throat dry.

“I- I don’t know what happened. Suddenly I was back in time, and Cullen was there, s-saying everything he said before, and,” She sucked in a sharp breath, trembling. “Then I felt Marathari casting the spell, and I was sleeping dreamlessly. I don’t know what happened.” Her voice broke, and eyes stung with tears.

Fenris reached out with one hand, taking hers and rubbing soothing circles into it. “It’s alright, Io, he can’t hurt you. Not anymore.” He just murmured softly to her, touching no more than the massaging on her hand. Eventually her breathing evened and she collected herself, sliding it all back behind her mask.

“What was it Bela and I happened upon this morning?” His gravelly voice held a teasing note, smoothly changing the subject. She glowered at him.

“Absolutely nothing that’s any of your business.” He continued to pester her the rest of the afternoon, and she had stubbornly evaded answering him.

She wasn’t even sure entirely what had happened herself.

Likely she had imagined how intimate the situation had been, and he felt uncomfortable about it all.

That was why for the next fortnight she completely avoided him. Whenever they were in the same room, she made sure other people were there too.

It was easier to stave off the embarrassment and pain of being rejected. If she pretended it never happened, she didn’t have to deal with the consequences.

So, when the celebration to send her and the children off to live at the Hawke estate began, she was getting sloshed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no kiss.... I love you all. I'll be mass uploading some chapters, and I hope you are all still reading. I love you.... TT^TT


	4. 14th -15th Days of Harvestmere, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tara watched. Their eyes caught more than most knew, clever enough to never let on. And they watched their friends and look out for how to protect them, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *leaves this here*

14th -15th Days of Harvestmere, 3:32 DRAGON

 

The celebrations began later in the day, the morning spent with final preparations. The clan was in a tizzy, filled with excitement for merrymaking. There was plenty of honeyed wine, and ale; plenty of people between her and Anders.

 

***

 

Anders knew she had been avoiding him. Knew he had likely damaged their friendship more with his behavior in the aravel. It was obvious as ever she held different feelings than him. So, when Bela and Tara had dragged him to the dalish celebration, he had started by getting as belligerently drunk as he could.

The elves had made a great deal of wine, and Varric had brought even more ale. Tara and the dwarf were drinking him under the table. When the fires were lit, the dancing and music beginning, he was fuzzy around the edges, warm tingles throughout his body.

Elves were dancing all around the fires, singing and playing chiming and lilting instruments.

That’s when he saw Io swinging around laughing and singing with the others, feet bare on the grass and gravel. Longing stirred in his gut, to dance and laugh with her. Like a time so long ago it felt another life than this.

She seemed to feel him staring, turning to look at him. Her curls were loose around her face, her green cloak swirled around her ankles when she stopped. A grin curled on her lips, and she parted from the dancing to saunter over to him.

She collapsed in a slight tumble by his side, giggling fervently. He could smell the honey wine on her breath as she leaned in.

“Are you enjoying yourself Anders?” She laid back, grinning up to the stars. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done so much dancing or drinking. I think I drank even more this time.” She giggled again, bending her legs to wiggle her toes in the grass.

It was a fascinating sight, and he was entranced. She caught him staring again, and lifted onto her hands, leaning closer to him. His breath caught.

“Last time, you kissed me. Do you remember?”

His drink addled mind didn’t care that she seemed to remember that time.

“We were sitting to the side, like we are now, and leaning close like we are now,” she smiled coyly. Warmth spread through him, aroused by her teasing. “You were looking at me like this, and I wanted so badly for you to kiss me like I do now-“

He had captured her lips, hand snaking up into her curls. She tasted bitterly of wine, with a hint of honey, and she hummed into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

 

***

 

He smelt of ale and wine, and he was so warm pressed up against her. “Dance with me.” She whispered breathlessly, standing and tugging him with her.

They were unsteady on their feet, but the music had slowed a little. They kissed again and again, giggling and hanging off each other. Dancing out of step to the music, but lost in each other.

“I love you, Anders. I always have.” She murmured, burying her face into his neck. He kissed the tip of an ear, making her giggle.

“I love you, Larin. Ever since I met you.” She sighed happily, warm and content in his arms

 

***

 

Fenris was tense, as they watched Iolarin and Anders interact. For weeks, they had been avoiding each other; now they were sodding drunk, unlikely to remember a damn thing. It upset Fenris a great deal, and ticked Tara’s curiosity.

Anders was going to break her heart, again. At least that was what they heard him say under his breath multiple times.

“I’m going to rip his prick off, the stupid bastard.” Tara smiled at him, shaking their head.

“You sound jealous, Fenris.” They teased. He glared at them.

“If he breaks her heart, I’ll kill him. I refuse to let him do it again. Bloody stubborn children.” Tara followed him as he stalked towards them, muttering under his breath. Tara had to agree; they were being very stubborn. For weeks they’d waited for them to break, and it finally happens and they were the drunkest at the party. Sweet Iolarin had drunk enough to fill a brewery, and Anders tried to match her. Tara did have to give the elf woman props, she had held her liquor well to a point. Which she had passed hours ago.

The human mage laughed, watching Fenris covertly trip them in the middle of their dance. They tumbled forward, both laughing and smiling dazedly.

“Maybe we should just sit down.” Io giggled, and the two hobbled over to lean against some barrels. Not too long later they were both obviously out cold, followed not to far by most at the party.

When dawn came, Tara watched Io wake up, pained look on her face as she moved away from Anders. They decided then, watching when Io turned back briefly with a look of abject sadness, that they would find a way to make both realize how the other felt.

If only for everyone else's sanity.

 

***

 

When Anders awoke he felt as if his head was splitting open, and the sunlight made it worse. He stumbled when he stood, then made his way wearily to a nearby table where food was laid out.

Bela, Fenris, and Io soon joined him, all with equal amount of enthusiasm for being awake. Then Hawke came sauntering over, mugs of coffee in hand. She slammed them down, earning glares and grunts of disapproval.

“Whole lot of lightweights, you lot.” She laughed, then stuffed food in her mouth. “Anyone still remember their own name?”

“I will vomit on you.” Bela growled, chugging the coffee then laying her head back down.

“No, I’m pretty sure that isn’t your name.” Anders glared over at Hawke’s mocking words. No one should be so chipper in the morning.

“Hawke, darling, please shut up before I set you on fire.” His golden eyes flashed to Io’s face, dark skin sallow looking and eyes bloodshot.

“Drink your coffees, lazy lou ts. We should be heading back into town soon.” Varric ambled over, looking just as chipper as Hawke.

“This isn’t another drinking competition, though, so do try not to scald yourselves.” Anders hated them. Thought of many ways to disembowel them, when they sat and ate.

“I don’t remember a thing after Bela beat me at that drinking game…” Io murmured, sipping slowly at her cup. Her hair was undone and wild around her face, white and black strands sticking up at odd angles. She wore the same elven garbs she had the night before, minus the billowy green cloak, skin tight leather and cloth, and her exposed skin was reddening in the cold; she seemed not to notice.

“You challenged Tara to arm wrestling.” Fenris’ gravelly voice was teasing, and he was dimly smiling at the other elf. Anders imagined the best ways to skin him.

“And cheated.” Tara quipped. Io groaned, hitting the table. “No fair, using magic.”

“Then you challenged Feynriel to a drinking game; he is still sleeping.” Varric chuckled, Io’s ears were burning red.

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything else to embarrass myself?” She glanced up, her bloodshot eyes pleading.

“Oh, you did a lot. Good thing you’re leaving, right? So many people who won't look you in the eyes.” The other elf was still teasing, chin rested in his hand as he smirked at Io. She blushed farther, with a groan; something along the lines of ‘I hate you’.

Anders himself couldn’t recall much of what had happened. And his head hurt too much to try too hard.

“Hey Anders, you’re awfully silent.” Tara gave him a brow wiggle, and he glowered. “Do you remember challenging one of the younger mages to a fireball contest; to see who had the biggest balls?” He closed his eyes, embarrassment settling thickly. “I beat you, by the way.”

“Ah, but then freckles challenged your crown, and showed she has the biggest balls of them all.” Varric smirked.

“Damn straight. Biggest balls in all of Kirkwall.” Iolarin peeked up, eyes dancing beneath the squinting. The others laughed, and Anders joined in. It relieved some of the tension he had been carrying.

It was so soothing, sometimes, being near her.

 

***

 

Io had a pounding thrumming in her head, and sun and sound made it worse. But she knew her friends teasing was part of the dynamic they all had. So she joined in. Anders laughed, and she had to smile. The sound was therapeutic.

“But really, you two don’t remember anything last night?” Io frowned, something in Hawke’s tone made her hair stand on end. What else had she done?

“Not really, no.” She gave the other mage a questioning look, queasy at the thought of what she could have done. Hawke opened their mouth, about to explain it most likely, when Feyn came over; despite the claim that she had beaten him at a drinking game the young man looked rather chipper.

“Keeper gave me some healing potions, for the hangover. Said you,” He gave Io a pointed, yet teasing, look. “deserve to deal with the consequences of your actions. Something about setting an aravel on fire?” The mortification she felt must have been plenty obvious because everyone broke out laughing again.

“Don’t worry love; they put it out before it was completely destroyed.” Even Bela had joined in on the teasing. She definitely couldn’t look any of the clan members in the eyes, now.

“I’m never drinking again.” She swore, chugging down her coffee. The aroma helped her perk up, and the burn felt nice down her throat.

“Doesn’t seem to go so well for you when you do, huh?” Oh, she hated Fenris for his insinuation. He was going to be on diaper duty whenever he visited from now on. “Despite your claim before,” She glowered at him, referencing her comment once on never being hung over, or blacking out.

She really had too much wine, this time.

 

***

 

Tara blinked wide eyed at Fenris’ comment, looking between him and Iolarin. She was glaring him down sullenly, and he was smirking at her.

That was interesting.

“Been drinking much lately? Isn’t that dangerous, pregnant and all?” Bela snickered next to her, stretching and sitting straighter, with Tara’s question.

“Hasn’t had much to drink at all since we’ve known her.” Tara was even more interested, when Bela hissed and jerked against the table. Io had just kicked her.

Io was hiding something, the others knew. She didn’t want anyone else to know though. A quick glance at Anders proved he was just as suspicious, frowning at Io.

“Well!” The dark skinned elf stood abruptly, bare feet planting on the ground, with a mild grimace. “I will go say my goodbyes to the others, and get my things. Come on Feyn.” She tugged on his arm, in a hurry to leave.

Anders, Tara, and Varric all gave Fenris and Bela confused searching looks. They just shrugged innocently. Oh, she would make them fess up later.

They all gathered what few things Io had at camp, along with a few gifts. Io hugged Marathari, each whispering something to the other.

“Watch over them well, Keeper, and keep me in your prayers.” Io bowed deeply, eyes sparkling with tears. Then Feynriel had wrapped his arms around her.

“I’ll miss you. It won’t be the same.” She held him tightly, whispering to him as well, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“It isn’t as if I will never see you again. I will visit when I can. It is safer this way.” She kissed his cheek, making him go red, then pulled away completely.

“May Mythal watch over your steps,” She bowed once more, to the congregation of elves who had come to see her off. “Mythal’enaste.”

“Ar lasa mala revas.” Marathari waved once, in farewell, and their group turned, heading towards Kirkwall.

When they were down off the slick paths of the mountains, chatter resumed.

“Do you think Merrill and Leandra were okay with the twins last night?” Iolarin worried her lower lip, and Tara had to laugh.

“They aren’t the first set of twins my mother has taken care of. She had two sets, if you’ll remember.” She smiled, fighting back the sting thinking of her siblings. Bethany and Carver lost to the blight; she was still unsure if he had survived the ritual, and had no real assurances for her mother. Her own twin was in another land, entirely occupied with his duty to the throne.

“Still…” Bela swung an arm around the young elf woman, smiling that cat like smile of hers.

“You worry too much doe-eyes. You don’t need to be with them all the time.” Io sighed, shaking her head.

“I feel like I’m hardly with them at all. Leandra has been spending more time with them than I have.” Tara reached out, patting her shoulder.

“I think it does you both good, and they are being spoiled with my mother. Don’t worry so much.” She winked. Fenris chuckled at them, adjusting the pack on his shoulders.

“You’ll have plenty of time with them yet, Larin.” Sometimes it irritated, how close Iolarin had become with Fenris and Merrill. The three elves spent the most time together; Tara admitted she was jealous. But Bela had assured her there was nothing to worry about between them.

Looking at Anders, Tara thought he could use those assurances more.

 

***

 

Anders grew grouchier as they walked; Fenris and Bela had closed about Io, chatting to her and distracting her from whatever was making her uneasy. Even the prickly elf man was touchy with her, hand on her arm and shoulder constantly.

It irked him.

Much of her skin was still exposed through the elvish garb - though she had pulled on boots quickly, telling the others their toes would fall off being barefoot all the time - and was pinking in the cold. Her hips, arms and even part of her chest were exposed, and again he wondered how she seemed not to notice.

She had always had a way of making people love her, want to be around her; he wasn’t really surprised the others had come to be close to her in such a small amount time. Still he was jealous of it. He yearned for the closeness they had once shared.

There had been a time where they were hardly ever apart; she would always drag him into some sort of shenanigan and had been free with her affections. Even with Fenris and Bela she was less free than she had once been; she hardly touched them, her smile was subdued. With him it was even worse. She wouldn’t go near him.

It hurt, in a way he couldn’t bear to speak of. He likely only had himself to blame though, didn’t he?

They reached Hawke’s estate, and they helped her set up in her rooms; they were located in the lower levels, even better hidden should anyone come poking around. And even closer to the secret entrance by his clinic. Hawke made sure to point out as much; Io looked a little discomfited about it all. It was like a knife twisting in his heart.

“Thank you again, Hawke, for all of this.” Tara smiled, then hugged the smaller woman tightly.

“You’re one of us now. No worries about it all.” She turned as Merrill came in, face lighting up. Hawke certainly had no trouble showing her affections. Merrill held the infants in her arms; both squirming and babbling.

Io hurried over, and her face glowed when she picked the babes up, pressing them to her chest. She loved them so much; everyone knew it too. She cooed back to them, kissing their small round heads, rocking them.

“My little ones.” Everyone watched them for a moment, soft looks on their faces; it was nice to see such pure love and happiness.

“Missed them that much, did you?” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and she turned those large black eyes on him. The smile was still on her lips, and it made him feel warm.

“I always do.” She looked back down, giggling softly at the way the twins seemed to have passed out quickly once in their mother’s arms.

“I think they missed you too. Fussy all night long. Nothing really compares to a mother’s love.” Merrill’s words brought a moment of silence about the room; no one besides Hawke had mothers to love them so - even in Tara’s case things were tense and on ice.

“I try. I just hope they never doubt that I love them.” Anders couldn’t help it, hearing the pain in her voice and knowing the cause. He walked over, wrapping and arm about her shoulders, and looking down at the infants.

“I don’t think they ever could, love. Everyone knows how dearly you love them.” It settled his nerves when she did not pull away, instead looking up at him warmly.

She had grown alone, thinking her parents had not wanted her. He wondered if the scars of that abandonment still clung to her. He hated himself, knowing he could have made it worse with all the times he had also abandoned her.

 

***

 

Io had a lump in her throat, and she held to her children like a lifeline. She knew how loved she was, and how much she loved all these people around her. It was a little overwhelming at times though. Sometimes it even felt fragile and soon to break.

Eventually, she settled the now fast asleep children in their cot, taking one more glance about the room; it was much bigger than the one she had at Jale’s house with a large bed, writing desk, dresser, vanity, fireplace and still so much room to move around in. The washroom was across the hall, and her room was attached to another room full of books and a small training mat. It was so much, and she had never dreamed having so much space for her own before.

Iolarin wasn’t sure what to do with it all.

She followed the others to the entrance hall, hanging back a little, listening to them banter amongst themselves. They were an interesting lot; so different and yet they all seemed to care so much about each other in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys! They kissed! 8D  
> (Hi, I'm dead on the inside, how are you?)


	5. 2nd  Day of Firstfall, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iolarin worked hard. She worked in Kirkwall to make it better, she worked to protect her friends. Sometimes even from herself, unknowingly building up emotions and hurt to the point of explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup.

2nd  Day of Firstfall, 3:32 DRAGON

 

It took a while to get settled in, but soon the three of them settled into a pattern; Leandra spent much of her time in the house, or out meeting with old friends and even Gamlen; Tara was settling business with the mine she was part owner of, and with the deeproads treasure - Io was sure Tara was also doing other things, when they were gone for most of the day, though she never really pressed; and Io herself had picked up her business again, catching up on anything she had missed.

Athenril had approached her for more work and she had agreed. The elf smuggler had even begun providing a training of sort; how to hide in the shadows and blend in with crowds of people. It made her a better smuggler for sure. And with other things she had taken to doing.

Io had enough contacts in and around Kirkwall these days that she heard much of what was going on; her focus on slavers and mages. She had begun infiltrating the belly of the underground, working to bring an end to the horrid slave trade going on all around.

She had also begun to help mages, using her smuggling contacts to help people go into hiding, and keep people from Templar hands. She still didn’t have enough power to save anyone in the circle; yet. And it irked her.

A half of a month after moving into the Hawke estate Io decided to brave going to visit Anders. She was determined not to ruin their friendship, and would keep her feelings for him in check. It had been easy when they knew each other in Kinloch; it shouldn’t be so hard now.

 

***

 

Anders knew when she was approaching, or rather Justice knew. The spirits within them both were like beacons to the other. So it helped him not to be too off guard when she entered the clinic. She had her hair braided back in two parts today and wore simple leather clothes. Her daggers were strapped securely to her waist, and he wondered if she ever parted from them.

He watched her look around the clinics bare walls, fingers trailing along one as she walked.

“Something you need love?” She smiled at him, and his heart thudded heavily in his chest. This was the first time he’d seen her alone in over a month; he wondered how she would act around him

“I just came by to see you.” Her words were simple, and she smiled at him. Yet he could see the tightness around her eyes, the way her hands shook. He was too aware of her, and always had been. “If you aren’t averse to it, would you join me on a walk?” She tilted her head towards the door, body half turned.

As if he could ever tell her no.

They walked in silence for a time, making their way slowly through darktown. He wondered what was on her mind, but was afraid to press.

“You look tired.” Her face was turned towards him, and he brushed his blond hair from his face, to hide the trembling in his hands. “Anders, tell me about your time with the Hero?” She changed the subject, and he was thankful.

“There’s a lot to tell there. I spent about a year with her, chasing down darkspawn.” He shook his head, Krista’s frowning face coming to mind. “That woman was always getting into fights with everyone. Is that an elf thing?” It was easy to joke, to avoid the tense feeling in his gut.

“Maybe.” Her brows were slightly furrowed, and her smile was tight. So he continued, hoping to cheer her up.

“Well, we camped out a lot, didn’t spend all that much time at Vigils keep. Not too bad, I suppose. Wardens can be a stuffy bunch; traveling with Krista offered some entertainment. The ones she recruited, those were my friends in the Wardens. When she left many of them did as well. As prickly as she was she held us all together and gave purpose to our merry band.” He shook his head, golden eyes staring ahead.

“She was wicked smart, and a bit mean. Should have seen her anytime Templars tried to come scoop me away. Killed a few once who ambushed us. She wasn’t too fond of the chantry. I think you would like her.”

“You seem very fond of her.” Her voice sounded teasing; lilting up at the beginning in insinuation. He had to laugh - and when he closed his eyes and shook his head he missed the jealous and envying look on her face.

“She’s a dear friend, but nothing more. She’s fonder of the ‘kill you in your sleep’ types. Both of her lovers planned to kill her when they first met her, and failed, can you believe that?” Iolarins eyes grew wide and she stared at him in shock.

“Isn’t it a bit suicidal to keep people like that around?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first to say that. But I’ve met both men and they love her dearly, now. And besides, I have always had feelings for someone else.” It was a dangerous game to play, saying those last words. Yet she seemed to take them differently, telling by the way her brows drew together, and eyes turned downcast.

 

***

 

He had always loved Karl; had been in Kirkwall to reunite with the man.

And because of her they would never be together again. It was hard to keep her emotions from showing too strongly. It was always more difficult when she thought about Karl. Sweet, wonderful, dead Karl.

When she had met Karl, gotten to know him, it had been easy to see what Anders had loved about him. He had been kind, smart; so many, many things, and now he was gone. Because of her.

She should never have befriended him. He would still be alive if she had stayed away.

“I miss him dearly.” She said, looking away from Anders.

“So do I.” Io smiled sadly at him, turning slightly in her steps. That was when she saw the men in the shadows behind them, bows drawn.

So she did as she had been training; she drew her blade silently and quickly, throwing it at her target, then drew the other, as men surged around them.

 

***

 

At first Anders could only stand in shock, watching Iolarin throw her dagger with precision behind him; then as she spun around deflecting blows. But then another ran at him and he snapped into action, casting spells around them and at their attackers.

It was distracting, seeing her fight. She did not use magic once; she moved in deadly graceful strides, slicing down one after another, and when she retrieved her other dagger she was fiercer. In minutes, she had most of their attackers down, the last one at the point of her blade; her breath wasn’t even heavy.

“Why did you attack us?” Her voice was cold, and sent chills down Anders’ spine. The man kneeling down at her feet was trembling, swallowing thickly.

“I-I don’t know any names!” He cried, flinching when she pressed her dagger to his throat. “We were just told to deal with a thorn, someone interrupting slave trade, that’s all I know I swear. Please don’t kill me.” It was obvious the man had soiled himself, and he looked sick.

In the face of it all Io held no expression, cold and merciless. He had the terrible thought that she just might kill the man.

“You’ll return to your employer, and tell him Quicksilver takes very personal the attacks on its people. Now leave, before I change my mind.” The man scrambled away, stumbling as he went. She stood stock still, then shoved her daggers away, and pulled her cowl and hood about her face.

He hated himself for the way he flinched when she turned towards him. Her eyes were narrowed, cold and calculating. She grabbed his hand, dragging them through some of the alleyways, moving quickly,  with him struggling to keep from stumbling.

Eventually they made it to lowtown, and she brought him to a set of apartments; the ones she had bought out for charity. She knocked in pattern, and one of the doors opened. They made their way through the building, walking past classrooms, sickrooms, and closed doors. Eventually she tugged him into one of those closed doors, closing it sharply behind them.

She leaned with her hands and forehead against the door, and her breathing grew labored. He was too afraid to touch her.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Her voice was tight, and she wouldn’t turn to face him.

“What was that, exactly?” He needed answers. He had just witness her cut through men as easily as paper, cold and ruthless. He had never known her to be such.

“I seem to be making enemies, though they think I’m a lackey at this point still, working for an entity they call Quicksilver.” She sighed, and leaned her shoulder against the door. “They’ve never been so bold before.” Her laugh was weak, and a little hysterical. “I’m so sorry you were endangered because of me.”

His fear melted away, at the weak sob that tore through her. He rushed forward, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders, holding her tight to his chest.

“It isn’t your fault.” He murmured, and lowered his head onto her shoulder. “My life is in danger every day, Larin.” He turned her around, and was a little surprised to see her eyes dry, yet her lips were quivering, and she was shaking under his hands. “I want to know why you are putting yourself in danger like this though; and why you know how to fight like that.” She gave a weak laugh again, making him frown.

“I can’t sit by and do nothing Anders. So, I’ve begun building something to make things better around here. And doing things. I’ve ruffled a lot of feathers.” She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. It angered him, the way she always did that now. She had never done it before. “I’m not the same person anymore Anders; I’m nothing close. There are lots of things you don’t, and never will, know about me.”

She pulled away, and his hands fell limp at his sides. He felt like he had been slapped in the face.

He started at the soft knock on the door.

 

***

 

“Mi’lady?” Came a soft feminine voice, and Io was thankful for the interruption.

He had looked at her like she was a monster.

Maybe she was.

She opened the door to see one of the human women who worked at the shelter; older with work worn hands. She nodded to Iolarin, and to Anders behind her.

“Mister Samson is being difficult again, and attacked one of the boys bringing him food.” She cast a worried look down the hall, where Iolarin could hear yelling and arguing.

This was Samsons third visit at the shelter, and third relapse into Lyrium. She was the only one who could calm him down, it seemed, when the withdrawal got bad.

“I’ll see to him.” She nodded, and hurried her way to his room. She didn’t register Anders following at a distance behind her.

Samson threw a dish out the door, and she dodged out of the way, listening to it clatter to the floor. “Don’t you think this is just a bit childish Samson?” He was standing in the middle of the room, chest heaving and sweat on his face. He wore nothing but a dressing gown and glared harshly at her. She just kept a calm countenance, unflinching at his anger.

“Bugger you, and bugger this. Let me go, maker be damned!” He yelled, storming towards her. His face was contorted, nose scrunched and brows drawn tight. His breath smelt awful as it puffed across her face.

“No one is keeping you here, Samson.” She shrugged, and he growled turning away from her. “You’re here because once again you got your hands on lyrium, and not very good lyrium. My people found you foaming at the mouth in an alley. You’ve been healing here while we worked the poison from your system. You’re free to leave.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway giving him ample space to do so.

“Stop judging me, as if you were some great high lady.”  He glared at her, but collapsed on the bed, all the same.

She suppressed the memories his words brought up. Bile rose in her throat, but she kept her face calm as ever.

_“With your Holier-than-thou attitude. You think you are better than us.”_

But Samson was not Cullen, and his words came from a place of desperation. She watched the way he threw his arm over his face, breathing heavy.

Maybe she could convince him to stay this time.

“I’m not judging you, Samson. I’m worried for you. One day, this addiction is going to kill you. The withdrawal alone could kill you,” She walked into the room fully, crouching by the bed, looking into his eyes. They were bloodshot, wide from the lyrium, and his face was incredibly sallow. He met her gaze, and she reached out to brush the limpid brown hair from his face. “I will do my duty to you.” Her words echoed his own, from what seemed so very long ago.

It brought a caustic smile to his face, and he nodded. “Aye, girl. I suppose you will, even if I ask you not to.” She smiled in return, their roles reversed from that time.

“I know this will be rough. Just please hold out. Let the others know if you need me, alright?” She leaned up, kissing his brow and whispering against the skin there. “The chantry failed us both; I will not see it bring us to ruin.” He leaned back, closing his eyes.

“One day, he will suffer the consequences of what he did.” She sighed, closing her own eyes as she turned away. She knew he meant it as a comfort, but the mention of Cullen always made her skin feel like it was crawling. At least he hadn’t mentioned the man by name.

When she got to the door, she saw Anders still standing there, and held a disconcerting look on his face. He knew, now, that Samson also knew who had tortured her. Panic settled under her skin.

 

***

 

She leaned in, her lips brushing the ex-templars skin, and whispered something to him. All tension seemed to leave him, and a look of peace settled on his face; Larin had that way about her. She was comforting someone in need, knew exactly what to do. Some things had yet to change after all it seemed.

Then the man had closed his eyes and spoken those words meant to comfort her in turn. Words that sent a shock straight through Anders. This man, he knew who had hurt and tormented the woman he loved. And when Io saw him standing so close, shutters seemed to go down around her expressive face; yet he had seen the fear.

Why was she so desperate to keep the monster’s identity a secret? Why did she protect him? He vowed to ask Samson another time. For now, he would placate her, not press her for anything.

When he found out who had done it, he would wreak vengeance and damnation itself down upon the bastard.

“Larin,” He reached out, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “You’re too kind, sometimes.” She looked away, biting at her lower lip. It looked red and abused, as if she did it often. Watching her, he wanted to kiss her, sooth the bruised flesh there. So he pulled away, looking around the halls.

“You’ve achieved something amazing here.” He praised, and it brought a weak chuckle to her lips.

“It isn’t just me. Many people wanted this, I just knew what strings to pull and palms to grease to make it happen.” She shrugged, downplaying her success. He furrowed his brows, and pursed his lips, at how depreciating she was.

“Be safe, love. You talk so easily of greasing palms and interfering with Slavers. It’s commendable, and I won’t ask you not to; I know you too well to think it would even help. Just be careful. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” The way her eyes widened, and mouth opened slightly made his stomach squirm. She seemed so surprised that he wasn’t condemning her.

“You’ll be the first to say that. Fenris is always so disagreeable about it, trying to convince me away from it. All a bit hypocritical, really.” She reached out, taking his hand between both of hers. The heat shot up his arm, and he squeezed at her hands. “Thank you, for understanding.”

“Well, I try not to be too hypocritical. I have no place to judge you there.” He smiled, then tugged her on, and she followed him through the apartments, and out into lowtown. “Have you ever ridden a horse, Larin?”

 

***

 

She loved the way her nickname sounded in his voice; he had been the one to call her that first, and he used it so sweetly. “I haven’t. No chance to. You have?”

He grinned at her, leading her along through the streets. “With the Hero, yes. It’s how we got most everywhere. She was vehemently against walking; did it for a whole year, and bitched about it, constantly.” She laughed at his language, squeezing his hand. “I hated it in the beginning, and my legs chaffed constantly. Then one day I realized it didn’t, and that I didn’t mind so much all the riding.

“That first time though, she and Howe took me riding into the fields and it was magical really, though I nearly fell off.” He laughed heartily, and her grin grew. She imagined him trying to ride one of the animals, blond hair flying everywhere and clinging to the reigns.

“I can’t imagine you taking to something like that. It’s a nice mental image though. You never fell?” He looked back at her, toothy grin and raised brows.

“Oh, I fell plenty. Hurt a ton. Even got stepped on once; that hurt worse. But when you get used to being around the creatures you learn how to read them better.” He seemed to be leading her outside the city, and she wondered what they would do. When they reached the stables, he let go of her hand long enough to pass on some coinage and then tugged her back into the stables.

It smelt horrid, and she blinked in amazement at the stalls lining the hall. “Take your pick, love.” He whispered, and nudged her forward. She shot him a confused and sheepish glance, then walked a ways, peering in at the tall creatures. They were all so big, surely, she wouldn’t be able to ride any of them.

Then she laid her eyes on a grey mare, whose stare was compelling. Io approached the horse, and was about to reach out, when Anders wrapped his hand around hers.

“Careful. Give her this.” He placed half an apple in her hand, and palm flat she offered it shyly to the horse. “Now she might let you touch her, slowly.” His voice was like honey as he whispered in her ear, chest close to her side, warming it.

She prayed the horse didn’t bite her and that she didn’t embarrass herself. She slowly reached up, running her palm against the horse's snout and then along the side of its face. The animal stayed calm and still, and Anders slowly opened the gate.

“What are we doing here, Anders?” She asked in awe, running her hand down along the horse’s side, feeling the deep heavy breaths.

“I’m going to teach you how to ride.” She blinked at him dumbly, jaw slightly slack.

“Anders, I’ve never even seen one of these things in person before, and you want me to try riding one?” She drew in sharp breaths, and he approached her, touching her cheeks.

“Hush love, your panic will agitate the mare. Breathe. It will be okay.” She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “If you want I can ride behind you, bareback.” He winked, and she blushed, slapping his arm slightly.

“You’re awful.” His laugh was so free, and it loosened some of the tension in her soul.

“We’ll start small, Larin. First, let me show you how to saddle the horse.” He patted her arm, and began showing her all the equipment, what was for what, and how to put it on. She kept her nervousness as suppressed as possible. Once they had saddled two horses, the blond mage had her grab hold of the reins, and they lead the horses out.

When they had walked beyond the walls and bustle of the city, Anders turned to her with that same toothy grin. She swallowed thickly.

“Remember, keep your hips loose, back straight, and that you control the horse mostly with your thighs and legs.” He recited, then grabbed her about the waist, hoisting her into the stirrups and saddle. It made her a little queasy, being so high off the ground. She watched him pull himself into his horse’s saddle - it was a painted gelding, a few hands larger than the mare she sat on.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She cleared her throat, when he drew his gelding closer, patting its neck affectionately.

“Don’t worry love. We’ll start simple; just walking nice and slow, while you adjust to it.” He winked again, and pressed his heels in, urging the creature on. She followed his example as best she could. She was thankful the mare didn’t bolt off, and seemed rather patient with her fumbling.

“Do you ride horses often, Anders?” She arched her brow, looking over at him next to her.

“None since I left Ferelden. With the money from the expedition though, I plan to do it more. Howe, Krista and I would go riding often, even when not on missions. I suppose it reminds me of those few good memories in the Wardens.” His voice was tinged with wistfulness, and his eyes looked a little glazed over. She was envious.

“Was it home for you?” He turned a look on her, brows furrowed and lips quirked; as if trying to figure out something from her words. She flushed, hoping she hadn’t sounded too jealous.

“I don’t think I’ve found anything that’s like home, Iolarin. The wardens certainly weren’t it; especially after Krista left.”

 

***

 

He wondered why her question had sounded so bitter. And she had flushed when he answered her. Was she jealous? Of him, or was it his mentions of his friendship with Krista? Better to not think too hard about that.

He looked out into the horizon, peaks of mountains and cloudy sky. She was doing well enough riding, if still a bit stiff. Her hands idly stroked the horse, and she had a far off look on her face. He wondered what was on her mind, that she didn’t feel she could tell him.

He disliked how distant they had become, yearned for the closeness they had once shared. He just didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

“I think I’ve found something like home.” Her words shocked him slightly, and he raised his brows, mouth falling slightly agape. She glanced at him, and laughed, a sing song sort of sound. “Fenris, Merrill, Bela, Jale, and even Avaline made me feel as if I belonged with them. Hawke is doing their best to make me feel the same, I think. It’s a weird feeling, uncomfortable at times even.” She shook her head, closing her eyes slightly.

“I must admit I’m a little surprised; mostly where Fenris is concerned.” Jealousy spiked in him again, and he turned his face away from her, not wanting her to see the scowl he wore. “You two especially are very close.”

She hummed softly, in agreement. “I think we are the closest, yes. I love them all dearly, though.” He saw her glance at him from the corner of his eye, frowning slightly herself.

“Do you love him?” Her startled laugh nearly unbalanced him.

“Goodness, Anders. You and Tara both, I’d think you were in love with him; how jealous you sound. Fenris is a very dear friend, like a sibling to me. Besides, he’s falling pretty hard for someone else.” She teased him, and he felt the blush spread all the way to his ears. “And I love someone else.” She made a clicking noise, urging the horse into a trot.

She was a little unsteady, but held on well enough so as not to fall. Her words left him feeling rather dizzy, and Anders wondered who she held feelings for.

The hope he felt was ridiculous.

 

***

 

His jealousy had made her feel giddy, but she didn’t let it get to her head. They had been the closest in Kinloch, and he may simply be missing the part in her life he had lost.

They rode for hours, and she had begun to get sore, and no more sure of herself. At least she hadn’t fallen off though. She was thankful when they returned to the stables, sliding off her mare with Anders help.

It had been nice though, and she wondered if they could go again.

“What’s her name?” She asked, when the owner of the stable came up to them. The older man smiled at her, but kept his gaze on Anders. Ah, couldn’t talk to an elf, could he? Pig.

“The mare is named Cellina, and the gelding is Rapheallo.” He held out his hand, and Anders shook it. “Pleased with your purchase, missarh?” Io turned her wide eyes on the other mage, watching him pull more gold and silver coins from his purse.

“Very, thank you.” The man turned away, counting and testing the coins as he walked.

“Anders, what was that?” Her blush was deep, and he smiled down at her.

“Now we can ride whenever we please. And you can get more lessons.” Her belly was warm, and she looked back to where the mare was stabled. “I have an excuse to spend more time with you now.” She shoved gently at his side, and he laughed.

“You didn’t have to do that. I could have paid on my own, you know.” His expression was soft; light tilt at the corners of his lips, gaze steadily on her. She felt like she had butterflies in her belly, and had to admit she didn’t really want to complain about it at all.

“I know. It’s a gift, Larin. You’re my very dear friend; aren’t I allowed to buy you things?” She grinned at him, sighing in mock defeat.

“I suppose you’re right. Now, let’s return home.” She gripped his hand thoughtlessly, and they made their way up to hightown.

 

***

 

She had looked so happy when he had bought the mare for her, and he ached to do even more, if only to keep her looking at him like that.

He knew where it stemmed from - the glee at gifts - having grown up in the circle as well, where gifts were unheard of. Even to him the novelty hadn’t worn off. Krista had certainly tried to make it so; the elf woman had spoiled her companions in gifts.

Io likely still hadn’t received many gifts, and he would enjoy every time she lit up receiving one.

“Io, when is your birthday?” Merrill asked suddenly when they walked into the Hawke estate. Io blinked at the dark haired elf in confusion for a minute. “Hawke is throwing a party for theirs next month; lots of fancy guests of Leandra’s, drinking. Fenris doesn’t know his, of course, but we know everyone else's. Besides….” She glanced at Anders with her big green eyes. “You two. Anders, when is yours?”

He shook his head, laughing at the bloodmage’s enthusiasm. But then he saw the look on Io’s face, and his own fell.

She didn’t know. Like Fenris, she couldn’t remember a chunk of her past.

“Mine is in spring.” He said, wrapping an arm around Io and pushing into the room. “Though in the circle we never really celebrated birthdays. Not many remembered, you know being so young and all. Sometimes we’d celebrate the anniversary of when we entered the circle.” They had for Io.

Fenris, Hawke and Bella were sprawled out on a couch placed in front of the fire, and Varric sat in a corner tankard in hand. Bodahn and Sandal were nowhere to be seen; likely giving the group time alone.

Fenris was staring at Iolarin though, face pinched in consternation. “It’s winter.” Even with Iolarin’s earlier assurances, it still irked him the look they were sharing.

“What’s winter?” Tara looked between them as well, both elves looking distinctly pained.

“Our birth - times.” Io said, and her voice shook slightly. Anders stared at her in confusion.

“How do you know that? I thought you could never remember?” His words seemed to startle her, and she stared at him disorientated.

“When- when the spirit was saving me, Fenris touched me; the Lyrium brand reacted to the spirit. We-” She broke off, incredibly shaken.

“Some memories were shared. None very clear though. Mostly emotions and flashes of images.” Io nodded, hugging herself. The others looked at them in concern, and Anders placed his hands on her arms.

“I remember my parents, a little. I can almost piece together what happened.” Fenris stood, moving to kneel in front of the fire warming his hands.

“The memories I can recall didn’t stick around; gone as soon as they came. I think I remembered faces, but not who they were. Her memories stayed though.” He looked nearly sick.

“That’s why you looked like shite when you came back.” Bela slapped her fist into her open palm, piecing it together. “That must have been a bitch of a hangover.” Io and Fenris both gave her sardonic smirks, shaking their heads.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“So, that means your birthday is soon too? Oh, Hawke, should it be a celebration for all three of you?” Merrill asked gleefully. Tara laughed, wrapping an arm around the excited elf woman when she hopped on the couch next to her. The elf woman was keener than given credit for, and knew how to sooth the situation usually.

“I think that would be a wonderful idea, Merrill.” The others missed the look on Iolarin’s face; she had paled, and she was shaking under his hands, brows drawn tight together, and eyes scrunched up.

“Larin?” He whispered softly, and she looked up at him with wet eyes.

“Are the twins with Leandra?” She asked the others, though she kept her gaze on him.

“Yes, she took them to visit a friend of hers. They should be back soon I think.” Hawke looked over, and gave him a questioning gaze. He shook his head. “What have you two been up to today? Been gone a while.” There was a teasing lilt in the battle mage’s voice.

“Horseback riding.” He kept Io turned away from them while she pulled herself together, wishing he could take her to another room to ask what was wrong. “Bought two horses.”

“Good to see you’re actually spending that money you got, blondie.” Varric pitched in, smirking at him. “Thought you’d put it all away to charity.”

“I did save some of it, I’ll have you know.” He shot back, hands falling down to his sides when he noticed she had stopped shaking.

“Why a horse, Anders?” Merrill asked curiously.

“I like horses, and thought Io might like to learn.”

“So, you bought horses for Iolarin.” He was a bit shocked when Fenris spoke, teasing him as well. It made him blush deeply.

“That’s romantic.” Merrill gave them a dreamy look. He noticed Io’s ears turn red from the corner of his eyes.

“It isn’t like that,” He tried to defend, worried about their teasing pushing her away from him.

 

***

 

 _‘It isn’t like that,’_ his words echoed in her mind, and Iolarin wanted to cry. She didn’t need the reminder that her love was one sided. She knew that.

Yet it stung deeply.

She pulled on her mask, cheerful smile plastered to her face as she faced the others again.

“You lot, so nosy. Anders’ is just teaching me to ride.” She glowered at Bela’s suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “Horses, Bela. For shame.”

“Whatever you say darling.” She winked, and Io shook her head in exasperation.

“Iolarin, did you two run into any trouble?” She turned her black eyes on Fenris, who had his green eyes trained in her pants now that she had turned fully around. She followed the gaze, and muttered a curse at the splotches of blood lining her boots and pants. She’d been so careful too, about getting blood on her clothes.

“Just a run in with some thugs, nothing to worry about.” She shrugged, catching Anders giving her a cross look from the corner of her eye.

“Is that true, Anders?” She wondered if her friend was trying to cow Anders into giving a different answer. Fenris was such a mother hen.

“Yup. Trying to mug us; didn’t last long, and we’re all safe in one piece.” He lied smoothly; she hated having him lie for her, but was also thankful to him for it. She really didn’t want to deal with arguing with Fenris over her work.

“Hopefully having Aveline as guard captain will help clean up the streets.” Varric intervened, seeing the hostile looks Fenris and Anders were sharing. “Now, who wants to play a game of cards. I’m bored off my arse here.” The dwarf smirked, sauntering over to the couch, leaving his notebooks at the table by the fire.

Their game went by leisurely, Fenris, Varric, Hawke and Merrill bowing out one by one and a pile of coin collected on the table. Io stared furtively at her cards, careful to keep her face blank. Bela bowed out that round, leaving her and Anders facing off for the coin.

“I’ll raise you another three gold pieces.” He wiggled his brow, and Io laughed.

“I’ll call that wager. You ready to lose, pretty boy?” The others laughed, and both mages set their hands down on the table, Io crowing happily at her winning hand. Hawke and Fenris both glared at it.

“My hand was better than that. You bloody little tricksters.” Tara nudged Io with a bare foot, making her laugh more as she scooped up the coin. Anders was laughing too.

“Just can’t read this one. Nearly made me bow out too. Fearsome look on her face and all.” He downed his cup of ale, head shaking.

“I regret ever teaching you to play.” Fenris shot, brooding on her other side.

“I told you that you would. The student surpasses the master.” She teased, prodding his side, making him slap at her hands. Then Merrill reached out, tickling at her sides, making Io squeal, jumping away.

“You’re veeery ticklish, Io. Best revenge, conning us out of the game with such a weak hand.” The dark haired elf whispered, mock evilly. Io grinned toothily at her.

“You’d have to catch me first.” She teased. Then they heard the door open, and the sound of the carriage across the tiled entry floor. Io shot up, hurrying to greet Leandra and her children.

The older woman gave her a kind smile as she pulled off her cloak, and Iolarin scooped her little ones into her arms.

“Hello Karl, Solona. Mummy missed you.” She whispered, kissing their heads.

“How are they doing?” Anders was in the doorway, watching her with a melancholy frown and look in his gaze.

“They were very good today. Must be getting used to going out more often now.” Leandra said, and Io rocked her babies slightly.

“Don’t want them getting too used to being away from me though.” She murmured, staring down at them lovingly. “I might stay in tomorrow, spend the day with them.”

“Would you like to join us, serah Anders? Tara will be gone most of the day, and we could use the company here.” Io blushed slightly, even Leandra knew now how she felt for Anders, had even been the one to suggest she go visit him today. Her friends were awful gossips.

“I think the clinic will be slow, how about lunch?” He agreed, and Io gave a shy smile, her back turned to him and facing Leandra, who gave her a coy smile in return.

Even if he didn’t love her the way she loved him, it was nice to spend time with him. And having the twins around would be a good distraction from doing anything to embarrass herself around him.

“Good to hear. I don’t think I’ve been able to properly thank you for saving my son, even if I never see him again it is a blessing to know he lives.” She bowed her head to him briefly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I will retire for the night.” She retreated through the door, and Io could hear her talking mutedly to the others.

“They are growing big.” He said, coming around to look at them and her. She smiled at him.

“I think maybe they just look bigger, in my arms. You’d never know I was their mother, looking at them. It’s a shame, how elf-blooded children resemble their elven parent less than the other. At least the first generation.” He reached out, brushing Solona’s face, the little girl reaching out to grip one of his fingers in her little fist.

“I think they will still share many of your traits; hair, eye color, skin color. Just not the ears quite, or nose.” He smiled, wiggling the finger slightly. “They look healthy.”

“I don’t even know if I could tell. I know so little about babies, and how to raise them. I’m scared sometimes, that I’ll mess up.” She admitted, looking into his golden eyes. He smiled at her, then leaned down to kiss the top of Karl’s head.

“You aren’t alone, Larin. You have me; and all the others. We’ll do our best to help you along the way.” She was thankful for his reassurances, looking down at her little ones. They would be safe, here amongst her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it hurts me too.


	6. 16th Day of Firstfall, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh Samson would call himself a weak man. His weakness had let him stand by and do little in the face of Meredith's cruelty to the mages. He was too weak to protect those under his care. Now he felt weak in the face of one woman's unbroken strength in the face of everything.

16th Day of Firstfall, 3:32 DRAGON

 

 

Iolarin adjusted the long heavy sack on her shoulders, keeping her steps light and even. Her eyes flitted about the dusty cobbled streets, at the black banners hanging sporadically, the clay, mortar and stone buildings – many of which in varying degrees of decay around this part of the city. She was becoming master of these streets; she walked them every day, memorizing the twists and turns and knew where the shadows were to hide away in. But today was not the day for shadows. She made her way to a section of adjoined apartments, close to the alienage, a sanctuary in Lowtown for all those who needed it. Her greatest work so far.

She huffed an exasperated breath at herself as she reached the blue painted door, knocking on it with the code rhythm. A slat slid open, allowing piercing blue eyes to peer through at her, before snapping sharply shut once more. Iolarin’s large pointed ears twitched as the locks clicked and unlatched, then her dark skin prickled as her protective spell washed over her, checking for ill intent. Those without magic would never sense it, and it was a warning to those who could; this place was protected by power.

The elf grinned at the much larger, stocky, human that opened the door. Jessa answered it with a crooked smirk of her own, dusty blond hair falling into her eyes when she stepped aside to let Io in.

“Lovely seeing you, Lady. Here ta see that laggard? Or just checking in?” The woman walked with her down the brightly lit pale taupe halls, in better shape than many of the buildings in Lowtown. “Might do ‘im some good; e’ll leave the staff alone with all that attitude for a mite bit.” The large woman guffawed, patting Io’s shoulder good naturedly.

“A bit of both, ma’am. I have some treats for the children, and money for the month.” She paused a moment, unstringing the purse from her hip and giving it to the head of staff. “I was thinking some exercise might be good for him, out in the back.” Her teeth shone white as she grinned wide, waving the blonde woman off, turning to find the old beggar.

The floor boards creaked under her feet, and she made a note to see if that could be fixed. Then she was crowded by clamoring children, begging her to play. She patted their heads, a soft curve to her lips as she fished out a medium bag from her sack, opening it slightly for them to see the candies inside.

“I cannot play today, but I hope this will make up for it?” She laughed as they cheered loudly, taking the sweets and running off to their play area with it. She continued on, large black eyes scanning the name plaques on the doors, noting the increase in residents since her last visit.

She paused briefly, looking through a slightly ajar door. An elven woman sat on a rocking chair, nursing a rounded eared infant with one hand, while the other twirled a glowing orb of energy. Io let the feel of foreign magic wash over her senses, delighted by such a sight. One day every mage would have the same sort of freedom.

Io stepped away, humming slightly. This place was coming along well, and she hoped to have more built in other cities, so everyone could have access to the safe havens.

She wondered if Samson would still be asleep, as he had often been during her visits while he fought off his lyrium addiction. The thought was dashed as she heard grunting noises coming from his room as she drew near. She smirked, raising a brow no one was around to see, before using her booted foot to nudge the partially open door wide enough to enter.

She first noticed the lack of stench, from sickness and the fight against it, in its place the ever burning, calming, scent of incense. Then she saw the ex-Templar had stripped down bare, bed shoved against the far wall, moving through an interesting set of exercises. Lunges, jumps, pushups and repeat. The mage took a moment to admire the body that had held onto the muscles borne from a lifetime of demanding training, even through the drain of withdrawal. Sweat glistened down his pale back, her eyes fixated on a droplet sliding over the taut flexing muscle of his back, all the way down nicely sculpted thighs. Scars crisscrossed along his flesh, some from battle by the looks, and others that seemed to match her own; those from a whip in the hand of the unforgiving.

She let out a low whistle, then cleared her throat, to gain his attention, mid rep. He spun around, and she was both surprised and delighted at the blush that stained his face and ears as he cupped his front. He shyly yanked a sheet over himself as he looked at her.

“And here I was coming to offer you some sparring exercise. Maybe I needn’t have bothered.” She teased, turning her head up and to the side so he could dress in a least a little more privacy. Io let the sack slip from her shoulders, listening to the metallic thud as it hit the ground and a few of its contents spilled out onto the rough wooden floors. The light was dimmer in his room, with the curtains drawn shut and only one torch for light, though it bothered her little with her elven eyes.

“I wasn’t expectin’ you.” The brown-haired man muttered, voice rough and muffled as he yanked a shirt over his head.

“Perhaps we shall make a schedule of it then, so you won’t be caught off guard again.” She offered, turning her head to look at him briefly before leaning down to pull out the bracers she had bought from Jale, and pulled them on. “If you _are_ interested, that is.”

“Would certainly help you ta see how a Templar would fight, wouldn’t it?” His voice was rough, and his brown eyes pierced hers nearly accusingly. He brushed brown hair back from his face, watching her closely. As he always had.

She sighed, resting a slender hand on her brown clad hip, tilting her head as she stared in turn. Her stare seemed to cow the man, and he muttered something unintelligible as he looked away.

“Samson, I am offering to help you. To provide some distraction, ease of tension, while you fight the addiction the Chantry hoisted upon you. Besides,” She lowered her voice, approaching him to thrust a blade into his hands. “Cullen often enjoyed having me there to watch him train. So that I would know just how capable he was of hurting all those I loved.” She was proud that her voice neither shook nor broke as she said those words. It was easier, around someone that monster had hurt as well.

The rugged man looked at her, a fire sparking in his eyes as he took the sword from her, his hand wrapped around hers for a moment. She wondered what he was trying to convey with that, though she resolved not to think on it.

“Now I’ll show you how to fight back, ta defend those you’ve left.” He swore, grabbing bracers from the pile as well. “Got any shields?”

 

***

 

Raleigh Samson watched the way the elven mage circled the small ring before they began their match. She erected a shield around the perimeter that would cancel out the noise, and muffle any magic she may attempt. He let himself wonder fleetingly if he still possessed his Templar abilities, the ability to suppress her magic. Then he shook those thoughts aside, hoisting up the borrowed shield she had gotten for him. It’s rough beaten metal was nothing compared to the shield he’d had before, gifted by the previous Knight Commander. He only hoped that bastard Rutheford had not been given it; better to collect dust than be in the hands of such a man.

The girl Surana turned to face him, and he used the second before she spoke to survey all that had changed about her in the light of day.

In the Gallows when he had known her, or of her, she had been a paler brown, like a fawn; now she was a deep sienna, black freckles covering every inch of skin he could see, her new green vallaslin such a sharp contrast upon her face. It was amazing the differences he could see, and he wondered about those he couldn’t. Her hair had turned silvery white among darkest black, her shoulders were broad and muscled. Her hips and waist had narrowed, though she was still wider than most of her kind, something that had always set her apart. Not that he had known overly many elves.

She had been a gentle sort of beauty, combined with her quietly fierce personality that had drawn the awe and ire of many around her. Now she was ethereal, with a dangerous sort of aura about her that left everyone quaking in her wake. Breathtaking, was a word he would use to describe her. Raleigh pondered at all that had happened since that night he had rescued her broken and dying form. He could guess at some things, yet the urge to know more was nearly insatiable.

He owed her far too much to ever press for anything that she did not offer herself, however.

“I would prefer to avoid dismemberment and fatal hits.” She called, voice light and lilting teasingly. A smirk played at her full lips.

The ex-Templar rolled his shoulders, then motioned for her to begin with his borrowed sword. She swung both blades in her hands, black eyes watching him carefully. Her steps were measured against the loose gravel, with a practiced sort of ease.

He moved, swinging out with the blade in his right hand, analyzing the way she stepped back and down away from him. She shot out with her scimitar in her right hand, that he blocked with an easy jerk of his shield. She dove back out of his reach once more.

“Fuckin’ elves. Nimble lil’ fuckers ya are.” He provoked, sneering at her. She only laughed in turn, then jumped in an arching backflip, showing off, even farther from him. He growled under his breath and stalked closer to her.

“You’re just so terribly slow, Samson.” She was so sure of herself, mocking him as she moved to stay out of his reach. That was a dangerous thing, in battle, letting your pride cloud your judgement. He would teach her that soon enough. Let her underestimate him; for many would underestimate her and she needed to know how to use that to her advantage.

He had not been able to save her from Rutherford, but he would make sure she knew how to gut the bastard, and any like him, when it came down to it. She would be no one’s victim ever again, and he would see to that.

He saw it coming when she finally lunged at him, striking out towards his side. Deftly parring, he watched as she shifted her stance to dance away. Her movements were abruptly cut off as he smashed his shield into her. She slid a few feet, landing solidly on her ass, looking disorientated. He smacked her hip with the flat of his sword, earning a scowl.

“Don’t underestimate your opponents, girl.”

“That’s not my name.” She spat, shoving up and lunging at him again, her ears a dark crimson.

“Yer still wet behind the ears, girl. Easy pickin’s for the bastards of the world.” Her movements were sloppier, his goading getting under her skin. Good, let her get mad. She’d need to learn to hone, control that temper of hers.

“Like you?” She sneered, and Raleigh wondered how many people had ever seen that look on her face. It seemed unnatural; yet arousing.

“Aye.” She lashed out again, and he knocked her with his shield, one of her daggers flying across the field. She snarled darkly, moving to try and strike him with the other. She actually seemed intent on hurting him. Good for her, she needed to release all that pent up anger and hate on someone. Better him than any of those she cared about.

He dropped his blade, and clamped his hand tight around her wrist, twisting her around and shoving her away.

“Completely incapable of defending yourself. Pathetic.” The air seemed to spark around them, and she spun around to face him, hair wild about her face and malice in her burning black eyes. “How many people have to suffer protecting you?”

He realized he had gone too far, as soon as the words had left his lips. A loud crash like a thunder clap sounded around them, and he felt the air still. He felt his breath stuck in his throat, frozen as he watched her jump towards him.

Her eyes blazed a blue white, and he could feel her magic prickle against his skin. It called to a trained part of him, that reacted to magic used against him. His templar training screamed to shut down her connection to the fade, to subdue the apostate threat.

But that was wrong, and he could never bring himself to use those cursed talents against any mage ever again.

Instead he let his arms go slack, waiting for the impact of whatever spell to hit him.

He hadn’t expected the impact of her body as she toppled him over. She straddled his chest, hands clawing hard against his neck. This close he could see the tears slipping from her glowing eyes, feel the tremble in her body against his.

“I wont let you hurt them!” Her voice was strained and distorted, and he finally understood something that was so different about her. She was an abomination. He damned Rutherford for pushing the girl so far as to seek out demons.

Then Raleigh understood something else, as glowing bright hot tears dripped down his face. It seeped into his skin, and felt like the rush of lyrium. Not a demon, too bright and warm. So what was she, then?

“S-urana.” He croaked out, breathing strained and his head beginning to pound. “Io-lar…in.”

 

***

 

Io felt the white hot rage bleed into her as he spoke those words, and her vision swam. All she could see was Cullen. Cullen, threatening Karl and Alain; Cullen tormenting her as a tranquil with Karl’s death. Blaming her.

_‘How many more of your friends will suffer and die, because of you?’_

NO!

No, she wouldn’t let him. He would touch no one else! She would kill them both first!

Then he spoke her name, so softly and calm, and _not Cullen’s voice_.

She gasped, releasing her hold on the spirit’s power. All the strands of black in her hair gone white. Her breathing ragged, hands cramping where they gripped-

Samson.

She yanked her hands away as if scalded, but couldn’t get her body to move much more. Every part of her seemed stiff, immovable. The elf woman began to tremble violently.

“I-I am s-so so-ry, Samson. Cre-ators.” Her throat was raw, and her voice came out barely more than a raspy whisper.

He settle his hands on her biceps, staring into her eyes stoically, and gave a slight squeeze.

“I’m gonna lift you off, okay? If it’s too much, I’ll stop moving and we can wait.” She nodded mutely, allowing him to lift her from his chest. The gravel bit through her trousers into her knees. He removed his hands as soon as he had her settled, and watched her silently for a time.

“Paint a pi-ture. It’ll last lon-ger.” She jeered, trying to lighten the unbearably tense situation.

“Aye, maybe I will at that. No promisin’ on the quality of it though.” The corners of his lips twitched, and the lines about his eyes softened.

“I’m so-ry, for reacting like that,” She whispered, lowing her eyes to the frayed fabric about his ankles. “I shouldn’t have attacked you, Sam.”

 

“Raleigh.”

“What?”

“Samson is my surname, you know. Everyone thinks it’s my given. Honestly, I hate that nickname. Raleigh works just fine.”

“Raleigh? Doesn’t roll off the tongue quiet the same.” He shivered at the sound of his name, her husky voice making it sound better than any fancy title. “How about Ral, then?” She was looking up at him now with those wide black eyes, a smile pulling at her full lips.

“Aye, that’ll do.” He stood, needing to move before he made a fool of himself gawking at her. She probably had that effect on everyone, and he didn’t want to join the host of onlookers. He reached out to help her up, enjoying the warmth as her hand gripped his wrist.

The elf dusted her pants off best she could, before walking about the ring to grab their discarded weapons.

“Nothing like getting your ass knocked about to take you down a peg.” She joked, turning back around to face him as she belted her daggers to her hips. Her smile was easy, and he was glad to see the tension and fear bleeding out of her. She should always stand proud.

“There’s no place for pride in a fight, missy. If you’re still willing we can work out a better training regime.” She flashed her teeth at him, her pleasure at his suggestion making his gut tighten. He needed to get ahold of himself, maybe see about visiting the blooming rose.

“That sounds fine to me. Can’t wait to see what you can teach me.” She held out her hand, and he gripped it firmly. “And if you want me to call you your given name, then you should be using mine.” The teasing spark came back to her eyes. He merely shook his head.

“Alright, Iolarin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something for you guys. <3 Samson will make a few appearance in this story, and will play a far greater role than he expects in Io's journey. Please let me know what you think, this chapter was a labor of love (emphasis on labor).


	7. 30th Day of Firstfall, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tara wondered often. She wondered about her brothers, and if they were happy wherever they were. She wondered if she could ever make Leandra proud, if she would ever be good enough in the face of all her lost siblings. She never wondered whether she was loved though, with the makeshift band of friends she had gathered.

30th Day of Firstfall, 3:32 DRAGON

 

Iolarin was smiling, curled on the ground at the estate around her children with the others surrounding her as she and Anders told a story back and forth. Tara listened with amusement, sandwiched between Merril and Fenris, four weeks before the party, everything still calm and no rush.

“Remember that time we went and put honey in everyone’s shoes?” Anders laughed, nodding to Io’s words. Her ears were perked up and pink, and it was obvious how happy she was. “Gregior was so mad, but no one could find out who did it. Some Templars were still finding the sticky stuff months later.”

“Jowan knew it was us, and he was just as pissed off, threatened to tell the Knight Commander himself!” Io burst into another fit of laughter, and the group shook their heads.

“I just threatened him with more honey in unsavory places.” She wiggled her brows, sitting up with her legs crossed to settle Karl between them while Anders took the chance to nab Solona and bounce the small infant on his knee.

“You two were quiet the trouble makers, weren’t you?” Merrill quipped, eyes wide, bouncing slightly against Tara.

“Oh, it was all Larin. I was a sweet innocent boy before she came along and corrupted me.” Anders fibbed, causing the dark-skinned elf to reach out a foot to prod him.

“Oh hush. How many failed escape attempts were there before I came along? Or all those times you snuck off with Karl, or those knickers you set on fire, completely without my involvement.” She rattled off, rolling her eyes and brushing her uneven black and white curls from her eyes. “I was the innocent bookish girl, you the bad influence.”

“Tell that to all the knocked over book cases, or how about the missing socks?”

“You stole people’s socks?” Fenris let out a startled laugh with his question, raising a brow at Io who blushed slightly.

“Only one each.”

“Used them to make a giant sock monster she left outside the first Enchanters office. Made some poor sister pass out when she went to clean the room.” Io rolled her eyes before burying her face into her hands, muffled sounds of giggling bubbling forth. Tara grinned toothily, reaching out to prod the elf with her toe.

“Sock monster, huh?”

“To be fair, I was like ten at the time.” She defended, peeking one large black eye from between her fingers. “Anders can’t say the same; at least I was a child. How old were you during the honey incident?” She lowered her hands, giving Anders a droll amused stare.

The blond mage promptly avoided her look, making babbling noises to Solona.

“You know you should be speaking actual words to them, Anders. Helps them learn to speak faster.” Tara pointed out, watching the pout the older man gave her.

“It’s true blondie; I was writing my first series by the time I was six, and running my mouth off before then. Parents never made any babbling noises. But they were also too serious and Bartrand never had much of a sense of humor because of it.” Varric joined in, and Iolarin laughed again loudly.

“I can just see you now Varric; even smaller and spinning wild tales.” She joked, waving her hands slightly. Varric smiled at her fondly, folding his hands under his chin.

“Careful Larin, or he’ll start spinning tales about you next.” Anders warned good naturedly. She merely rolled her eyes once more, adjusting the sleeping child in her lap.

“I’m pretty boring, not much of a tale to spin there-“ She was interrupted by a near chorus of snorting and abrupt laughter. She glared at Fenris, Merrill and Bela in turn.

“Oh doe-eyes, you are anything but boring.” Bela crooned, winking at her. Io looked away, blushing.

“I can see the title now; dalish elf takes Kirkwall by storm, Viscount in a decade.” Varric spread his hands, twinkle in his eye.

“Viscount huh? I was thinking more Empress of Orlais, if we’re talking impossibilities.” The younger elf countered, but a smirk was spread on her lips. “Could you imagine though? An elf and a mage, ruling a city. The chantry would have an absolute fit. The world would probably implode.” She joked, and everyone joined in on the quiet laughter.

“I’d love to see the looks on their faces.” Anders said, cradling the sleeping Solona to his chest. “If anyone could do it though, it would be you.”

Tara watched how Iolarins face burned red, the way she couldn’t make eye contact with Anders. They marveled at the adoring and nearly worshipful way Anders watched the elf woman. Anyone with eyes should know how those two felt about each other.

“You’re a flatterer Anders. Bet you say that anyone to get your way.” Iolarin waved it off, glancing into the fire still avoiding honeyed eyes. “I don’t know if I would be suited for the job. Better luck somewhere else.”

Fenris scoffed, and Bela chuckled humorously.

“Oh Io, you could do anything you set your mind to,” Merrill mused, leaning on the edge of the sofa. Iolarin smiled at her fondly, and Tara reached up to ruffle the short dark hair on her head. “Hawke!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys enjoy my vague bits of intro in the beginning? They are really fun to write, and work at what I can tease you guys with. Like insight into the characters that might not always be apparent in the story???? IDK Next chapter, yes?


	8. 6th Day of Haring, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of Kirkwall noticed. Kindness was rare, but they took notice when it was there. They knew they had someone new watching over them, and they watched in turn.

6th Day of Haring, 3:32 DRAGON

 

 

Io often found herself at the safe house, when home or work didn’t call for her. The children loved the gifts she brought, and it seemed to make many of the adults feel safer with their patroness there. She went mostly for the sickly templar who had no one else visit him.

There were times where the lyrium addiction would still bring Raleigh low. Those days his screams and thrashing prevented all of the staff from doing anything to help him. It also fueled their hate for the chantry, seeing how it left these men after they had broken and used them up. He was not the only templar they had taken in, though one of the first they actually had hope of helping beyond just comfort at the end.

The house was grateful when she would come, and the screams would quiet. The ex-templar would only calm at her presence, and Io did her best to make sure she had time for him when he needed her. He had no one else. She was the only familiar face he had, and the only one he could stand see him so low and helpless.

Now she sat cross-legged on his bed, carding her fingers through his tangled brown hair. His head rested on her lap, and his body shook. Sweat had soaked his clothes, and his breathing was like a death rattle.

“Shhh, Ral. It’s okay.” Io murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his scalp and shoulder. He was delirious, and his words were an incoherent mumble. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.” She reached down, gripping his hand in hers. She let a tendril of magic seep through the touch, which calmed his shaking to the occasional tremble.

“T-ell me… s’ory.” He stammered, blood shot eyes flicking to her face. She sighed, and shifted so her back was fully against the wall.

“A story, huh? Should become my new moniker; storyteller. Suppose I can spare one for you, though.” She hummed softly, fingers still carding through his greasy hair.

“I lived in a chantry orphanage before they knew I was a mage. They found me starving and half wild near Lothering. Some of the sisters were a superstitious lot and worried I was some forest spirit of ill omen. The children hated me, because I spoke very little common tongue. They would tease and torment me, so I spent most of my time tucked away in the small library they had. At first, I merely hid there because no one else went there, but one day a female Templar found me cowering amongst the shelves.

“She eventually coaxed me out, and asked me my troubles.” Io laughed, tucking some hair behind her pointed ear. “Even then I wasn’t the most forthcoming person. When I wouldn’t tell her, I think she believed I just didn’t know how to speak at all.” A fond smile curled her lips, and her eyes closed as she pictured the moment she spoke of.

“She pulled out a few children’s books, and began reading them to me, as I looked on. I was a fast learner, likely out of necessity back then. A few months in, and I could read the child books myself.” She paused as the ex-templar moaned pitifully against her thigh. She reached out, grabbing the wet rag she had left nearby, to wipe against his brow. “Eventually I moved onto more advanced books, going to her often asking her to define this or that.”

Io took a deep breath, eyes ghosting over the bare room as she pulled her thoughts together. “Eventually she was killed. Not even gloriously, or from age. In Lothering the Templars helped the community as much as the small contingent of guards. She was out dealing with some farming squabble, and was bitten by a snake. Died before anyone could even go get help.” Samson grunted, a choked sort of laugh. “I was distraught, and her absence encouraged the bullying. Children can be so mean and tormenting me was their favorite sport. They got ahold of the chest with all my clothes, and trinkets from the Templar, and set it on fire while they made me watch.

“That’s when my magic manifested. The kid holding me back was hurt pretty badly in the fallout, though thankfully no one was killed or permanently harmed.”

His breathing had slowed, and his brows were no longer pinched, letting her know he had gotten through the worst of it. He cracked a smile, though his eyes remained closed.

“I didn’t ask for your life story.” He teased, and she let out an almost startled laugh. “I thought you’d tell me some fancy Dalish tale. That was just depressing.”

“Sorry, Ral.” She laughed, leaning her head back against a wall. “When people ask for stories they mainy mean about me. Now it’s habit. I’ll bring a book next time, how’s that?”

He quirked a grin that was more like a grimace. “Sounds good.” Io smiled, waiting for the sound of his slow breathing before carefully settling him before quietly leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOH, WHAT???? I didn't write my blurb about a character? Whaaaaaaat?   
> Okay, I'm sorry. I'll go back to writing now.


	9. 15th Day of Haring, 3:32 DRAGON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who lived within Kinloch Hold would tell you it was a bleak place haunted by the dead, where young mages were at greater danger for the spirits that still clung to the dark places of the tower. They would also tell you that it had gone dark before the massacre took place; when a young mage was ripped from their hands. Everyone knew her, and 'maybe' they whispered, 'had she been here it would have all been prevented'.   
> Kirkwalls fall would not happen without her at its center.

15th Day of Haring, 3:32 DRAGON

 

            Iolarin grinned toothily as Anders rolled around on the ground with the kittens, adjusting Karl while he suckled. She was curled up on the couch, Solona tucked between her legs and watching Anders, giggling occasionally.

“Help, Larin, they’re eating my toes!” Anders called, mock distressed. Io shook her head, looking down at the babes watching him with their wide blue eyes.

“Afraid I cannot, love. Trapped here between two very demanding babies.” She gave a pointed look to the silent twins. He grinned at her widely, laughing freely. It warmed her heart, hearing that sound again. She hummed softly, and a song filled her head as memories floated through.

“Laughter as bubbling brook

We stole away what we took

Flashing eyes dark and golden

Our daring makes us bolden

Hear enchanter and commander call

Slip down between every wall

Mouth filled with sour sweets

As scowling greets

Sticky filled soles

Grumbled down patrols

Laughter sweet and bright

A smile that sets alight

Hidden socks

A sister it mocks

And laughter fills the walls

And down all the halls

As children, we played

Our friendship never swayed

Started with a book

All that it took

Excited young chatter

Such a silly matter

We never grew bored

Always in accord

Guileless as we were

Curled amongst wolf fur

Secrets and tales

Whispered through the gales”

She trailed off quietly, an almost bittersweet smile curling at the corner of her full lips, which Anders mimicked.

“Life was easier, when we were younger.” He spoke, leaning back on his hands and staring up to the ceiling. “And you were far cuter then. A little spitfire of a thing.” She laughed easily at his words, and he stared at her wistfully.

“Oh, but I was so scrawny when you met me, and quiet like some wild animal. Even Jowan was mostly afraid of me for the first few years. And Solona, well she was the prettier between us and the contrast helped flatter her.” She looked up to the ceiling as well, recalling the past, a simpler time.

“Oh hush, both of them were besotted with you. Despised me for taking all of your time.” She shook her head, though she didn’t know if he would see it.

“As Karl must have felt of me? The bratty elf girl who stole away all of his lover’s time.” And yet she knew Karl would never have felt that way, and had even discouraged her the thought when they met again. Karl had worried who was the worst influence on who, at best. Karl never had an unkind thought towards anyone.

 _Anyone but Cullen, at the end_ her thoughts interrupted, and a lump formed in her throat.

It was all her fault.

“He worried I would get you into trouble, that I was a terrible influence on you.” Anders mused aloud, pulling her from her own reverie to look at him.

 

***

 

Karl had never been jealous of Iolarin, that was the truth, and even that Anders was a bad influence on her. But more, Karl had once mused there was no one Anders loved more than the elf girl, and that one day he would have to tell her. If only to put all the rest of them from their misery.

At the time, Anders had laughed it off and said she was like a sister to him, a very dear friend. And then Karl had left, and he had tried chasing after, only to be dragged back to Kinloch’s cold walls. He had thought the emptiness would consume him, and then she was there; then he had noticed, as he had not truly noticed before, that she was beautiful.

Yet he had felt nothing different for her, still that same closeness, desire to do anything to make her smile, laugh, _pay attention to him_. Yet he knew, without Karl there as a warm body and friend, that what he felt for Karl was not even a candle to what he felt for her. She was shining and brilliant and he loved her.

He had grown jealous once, and threatened Jowan; the mage had hated him since, but had taken the threat to heart.

_You’ll keep your hands off of her. We both know you aren’t worthy of her, anyways._

And he had kept others away from her as well, fearing her abandoning him. It had been unfair of course, for she had never shown even an inkling of leaving his side. No; he was always the one leaving her behind.

Many of his actions had been unfair to her.

He should have taken her with him, that last time. They would have made it, together.

But then he had known the truth of it; they would have killed him, and made her Tranquil. She had been Kinloch’s favorite, because of her knowledge and talent; but in all of that she would never have been allowed free.

It was surprise enough they had sent her to Kirkwall.

She never talked about it. Even the others didn’t seem to know, only that it had involved Jowan.

“Why were you sent away from Kinloch?” He mused aloud, before he really thought better of it. Her face fell blank in a way that worried him, and she moved Karl from her chest, laying him next to his now sleeping sister, covering her breast.

He was sure she would avoid the question, as she did so many of them.

“I believed Jowan, when he pleaded for my help, and went against our Templar jailors.” He wondered if that would be all of her explanation, but then she closed her eyes, brown skin paling, vallaslin and freckles stark. A sigh broke from her lips, a stuttering and heavy breath. “His chantry lover saw a letter, condemning him to Tranquility for blood magic, and he denied all of it. I believed him, though I was foolish enough to think the girl was behind this all.

“I argued with Irving, who would allow it all to happen. Then we broke into the repository and destroyed his phylactery. As we went to leave the room, we were caught. And he revealed his true colors, all along intending to leave me to take the blame.” Her voice was monotone, even, but her eyes remained closed. His heart broke for her, and he cursed Irving and Jowan and Gregoir. “I was surprised, to be honest, that they did not simply send me to the mages prison same as Jowan’s lover. Yet then again, where better to send their rebellious mage than the most iron fisted hold?” She laughed, and it was a broken sound, and he saw the tears fall from her cheeks.

He stood, walking the few paces to wrap his arms around her. Her breathing was heavy and shuddering, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, rubbing circles into her shoulder. He had the brief wonder if she was always this warm, her body radiating heat into his.

“He always hated me,” She let out a hysterical sobbing laugh, shaking her head, and he gripped her tighter.

Was this his fault? All those years, tormenting Jowan, in his jealousy. Telling him how much better Iolarin was, how little he was worth next to her. And she had always been better at everything, no reason to think anyone would begrudge her it. Had he planted the seed?

It was all his fault.

 

***

 

With his arms wrapped around her, Io felt as if she was going to unravel, as if the whole world was falling away. She breathed deeply, and he smelt of healing herbs and smoke. It made her dizzy, and she clung helplessly to him, fighting down the sorrow that choked her.

“He didn’t hate you, love. Blood magic changes people, and the chantry oppression poisons them further.” She let out a hiccupping laugh, thinking about how sweet he was. But she knew the truth, as even Orsino had known.

Jowan had envied her, and she had practically flaunted the freedom she had that no other could get away with. Even now was a testament; any other mage would have died, or been sent away to Aeonar - which was as good as dead. Yet she lived, sent away to one of the worse circles in Thedas true, but alive nonetheless.

Yet even knowing that, knowing how much Jowan – and Cullen – had despised her for who she was, Anders’ words warmed her heart, made her breath catch.

“Th-thank you,” She stuttered.

He kissed her temple, settling onto the couch with her, arms still wrapped tight around her, hands rubbing soothing circles into her back.

The tenderness of his care and attention made it hard for her to breathe, and she had to hold a mantra in her head. He was her dearest friend, and her love for him unrequited. This was not so intimate as her mind twisted it.

Anders sat there, running his fingers through her curls with his cheek pressed atop her head. She recalled another moment like this, a lifetime ago.

 

*******

 

Iolarin shook as she left Irving’s office, flinching as the Templar escorting her touched her shoulder. She felt hollow and empty inside, wretched screams still echoing in her mind. Her feet prodded along the floor, and her mind stuck to how funny it was that she only had one shoe on.

The other must still be in the caverns with-

The thought broke off, and she took a deep shuddering breath. She couldn’t think about it. It was too much.

It was all her fault.

“Larin!” Her head shot up, large eyes widening as she saw blond hair and golden eyes. Her Templar escorts stepped between them, hands hard on his shoulders. Those golden eyes looked on her with confusion and worry. “Larin?”

Seeing him, hearing her name, made all the panic and fear bubble up in her chest, choking her. She raised her hands to her mouth, shaking her head and stepping back. “Let him go,” She pleaded, and the men released the older boy.

He was slow and careful as he approached her, and she fought down the panic that made her want to run.

“The First Enchanter and Knight Commander ordered her escorted to the dorms,” One of them tried, looking as if he might pry Anders away. She saw him roll his eyes, and he reached out, encircling one of her wrist with his hand.

“I think I can manage that much, Templar.” The words were icy, and she shook with fear for him. She could not find her voice, which wanted to shout out for him to be quiet, before they hurt him.

“Knight Commander-“

“I think Gregior and Irving would understand this well enough, Templar sirs. Young Surana has been through an ordeal, it hurts none to allow her friend to escort her down some stairs.” Wynne’s voice commanded attention, and the Templars were stiff as they turned to her. She had her arms crossed, staring the men down. Were Iolarin not so distressed she may have laughed; Wynne could make hardened men wet themselves with her glowers of disapproval.

“But, Senior Enchanter-“

“I will handle Gregior and Irving should they be upset. Be on your ways.” Both men did not hesitate with their salute and marched off down the curving halls. Anders pulled Io against his chest, one arm wrapping around her waist protectively. “If you happen to pass through the libraries, they should be empty for the day.”

Anders gave the older woman a tight nod, and Io watched her as they passed. Her eyes were wet and lips pressed tight as she watched them leave. When she disappeared around the bend Iolarin buried her face into Anders chest as he led them through the circle.

When they reached the library, it was indeed empty, and the blond mage took them to the most secluded area he could find. Once there he helped her onto a chair, and knelt before her, brushing messy and matted curls from her face, still damp from tears.

Her chin trembled as he cupped her cheeks, honey eyes staring into her night black ones. He wiped the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs, giving her a sad smile.

“It isn’t your fault.” His voice was so soft, and he pulled her close once more, running his long fingers slowly through her hair to detangle it and sooth her. She slipped from the chair, wrapping her arms around his chest and sobbing loudly against his shoulder. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” They stayed like that until the sun was long set and only the torches provided dim light where they sat.

Eventually she fell into an exhausted sleep, and Ander carried her to the dorms and her bed. There he stayed, watching over her fitful sleep.

 

*******

 

“How did you know to find me, after what happened to Amell?” She asked quietly, looking over at the sleeping children next to them. She felt as well as heard Anders sigh; the warmth of his breath brushed against her forehead, and she looked up at him, wide black eyes searching.

“Jowan could not find either of you, and the other enchanters were whispering about something that happened in the caverns.” He chewed at his lips, and she frowned at the odd habit. “I snuck around there, and saw them dragging out a statue of an abomination and Templar.”

“Did you think it was me?” He smiled sadly at her, brushing her hair from her cheeks and shaking his head.

“I knew it would never happen to you. So, the only explanation was you were involved and in Irving's office. I had half concocted some brave escape attempt, if they planned to punish you." He chuckled weakly, golden eyes looking to the side as he flushed. Her heart stuttered a moment before she let out a huff of breath and a laugh. He smirked at her.

“My hero.” She joked, rolling her eyes.

“Thought I’d go in there, fire blazing, and we’d run as far and fast as we could.” His voice was light, and her heart ached. Creators, she wished he had. “I’m sorry I could not protect you.” His had cupped her cheek again and she had to breathe deeply to steady herself in the torrent of her emotions. She gave him a wet smile.

“There was nothing you could have done.” She reached up to grab his hand, kissing his palm before setting it down and carefully standing.

 

***

 

Anders felt as if all the breath had been stolen from his body, and went numb for all except the sear of where she had pressed her lips to his hand. He felt as if fire had swept all through his body from that point, and watched her stand mutely.

Makers breath, but she had no idea how much she could affect him. She never knew, and he felt such a fool for it. He had lost his chance four years ago, when he had been too ashamed to talk about the night they had shared. Yet his feelings had never dimmed, only strengthened with the years.

He had to look away from her piercing stare as she stood, eyes boring into his like a bird of prey. She made him feel cornered, and he laughed at the innocent nickname the others had given her. She was no fawn nor doe, or even a sweet song bird which she had been called in the circle. If anything, she was a kestrel; small and yet fierce and cunning. A bird of prey.

Trying to distract himself from the way he felt just being around her, he turned to scoop up one of the infant twins. He smiled down at Solona and chuckled when she yawned widely. He carefully cupped her head and pressed a kiss to it.

It was hard to describe the joy he felt, seeing Iolarin with her children. The circles never allowed those women who got pregnant even a moment with their babes before swiftly sending them off to some Chantry orphanage. The elven mage loved these two, despite their lineage. He was glad she did not have to separate from them.

Sometimes he feared that without them she would have nothing holding her together.

Anders was no fool; he had known Io far long enough to tell that she wasn’t okay. It was like that time, all those years ago, when they had lost Amell. She had been devastated and traumatized, tried pushing everyone away. Yet also she had been very good at pretending everything was fine.

He only hoped she could pull through this as she had eventually then. He would support her just as much as he had before, hope it was enough.

He couldn’t bear losing her.

Anders also secretly wished to continue to be such an important part in her life and that of her children. A family, something he hadn’t known he had wanted until the chance to have one was taken from him.

“You look so serious, Anders. It will give you wrinkles.” Her voice was so light, and he looked up at her, the smile curving her lips and the color on her cheeks. He cracked a grin, chuckling and pressing the little girl to his chest.

“I would hate to have that happen. Ruin my charm and good looks? What would I have left to me then?” He mocked despair, and she laughed that throaty laugh that made him shiver and feel too warm.

“A few wrinkles hardly detract from your handsomeness, Anders. And you have many other qualities to live by.” She flattered, giving him a teasing once over that nearly had him sputtering and hard.

Maker, save him from making a fool of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuup... I love you all, here you go!


	10. HIATUS UPDATE PLEASE READ

Hello all! I know this fic has sat untouched for a long time now, and I just wanted to update you on whats going on. I have actually returned to writing another AU with Io as the warden, but I have not abandoned this one. I have a good deal more written than posted, and I will be doing that daily until I've caught up. Hopefully by then I will be able to switch back to finishing it. 

This update is also to ask if anyone would be interested in reading the iteration of the story if Io had been conscripted by Duncan? It was the first one, and follows things very closely to Origins, but with some key differences. I wont spoil it any more than this warning: My characterization of Cullen remains consistent with this fic, and he remains a 'villain' in regards to his actions toward Iolarin. Chronicles was born from this other fic, a stray thought of 'what if' that I got swept up in. This fic is titled "Chapters of the life of Warden Commander Surana" (I know it's long), and is no where near as long as Chronicles - yet. 

I would not be posting Chapters until I have caught up with posting this story though.

Let me know your thoughts and anything you wish to see of this fic in the future in the comments! Until tomorrow!


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